An Unexpected Journey
by Avalon-Shiranui
Summary: Lily has always felt restless amongst the world, eager for adventure and a way to feel at home with herself, as well as those she holds dear. Little did she ever expect to find a place in the tale of Thorin Oakenshield & Company looking after her dear Hobbit. But circumstances and intentions change, as do hearts...OCxThorin
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**: Based primarily off of the film by Peter Jackson, NOT the book.

_**An Unexpected Journey**_

_By Avalon Shiranui_

**Prologue**

When Lily first came to the Shire, I should have known then she was different. I'd been sitting on my bench, enjoying the mid-spring afternoon and smoking a particularly fine bit of pipe-weed when she said, "Good afternoon."

I would never come to lay eyes upon her equal. She was taller than a Hobbit but quite small for a human, a full meter and a half perhaps, and stood so confident every centimeter seemed weightless. Her clothes were green from head to toe, the knee-high leather boots rustic compared to the emerald cloak pushed off her shoulders. The balanced angles of her straight nose and high cheekbones would have struck anyone even if her upturned full lips and jolly jade stare didn't.

In my defense, her comeliness took a person off-guard, but, in retrospect, she was obviously surprising for much greater reasons. She emanated an autonomy I would come to know well.

She went on, unaffected by my gaping. "I've just arrived and find myself turned around. Might you point me in the direction of an inn?"

I fumbled through a proper hello and sent her along the appropriate paths, and she politely ignored my nervousness with a small bow and a flawless smile.

"Until we meet again."

I imagine she always knew. She had that way about her, in the flick of her eyebrows or the tweak of her mouth, one always felt a step behind. I think she knew that, too. On occasion, I wonder if there was any secret Lily didn't discover ahead of the rest; she was so much keener than I.

Then again, perhaps that's why she's gone…

But I'm getting out of sorts. We must begin suitably if we are to move forward comprehensibly. Let us begin at the turn, when the woman I knew would affect so many—no one more so than herself.


	2. Chapter 1

_**An Unexpected Journey**_

_By Avalon Shiranui_

**Chapter One**

_Hobbiton, TA 2941_

She never tired of jasmine and vanilla wafting through her bedroom each morning. When she took residence in the Hobbit hole years earlier, the garden window at her bedside was the only requirement. Her childhood's room housed the sweetest roses, and lily-of-the-valley occupied all the spaces in between, but neither grew so well elsewhere. It soothed her to have flowers in her life again.

Lily tied a white bonnet around her loose bun and fluffed out her skirts in front of the mirror. The frumpy waistline was debatably the result of cheap alterations or too much fine dining at a Hobbit's table—they cherished their feasts and merrymaking and leisure more than any creatures she ever encountered, but simple lives were the easiest to enjoy and assimilate. Here, she was only a woman with a pretty garden.

She collected a basket filled with homemade potions and creams, tucked her money pouch inside, and hurried off. Another sunny day, livelier than home but similar warmth, and her skin never tired of it.

"Morning, Lily!"

"Morning, Wilcomb!"

Most of her days were passed watching younglings or tending her garden. It lent much in the way of generosity and public eye, giving her the ease of community needed to blend. The Hobbits were good but native folk, weary of anything outside their routine; luckily, she had a great deal of experience with being odd. It took time, but they learned to accept her in their way.

"Lily, my girl!"

She checked over her shoulder and stopped with a smile at the chubby old Hobbit panting toward her. "Good morning, Olo."

He hunched over at her side and regained his breath. "Are you heading to market?"

"Yes, making deliveries."

"Jolly good. Might I join you? Esmereldat has me on a diet, thinks I've one foot in the grave, and I could use a reprieve."

"I would love the company." She took his elbow and let him lean slightly on her. "Maybe we will find something nice to put the other foot in."

He chuckled and patted her hand appreciatively. "Something tastier, I hope!"

She loved markets, especially Hobbiton's, where everyone knew each other and exuded cheerfulness. Olo told her his dieting distresses, and Lily couldn't say Esmeraldat's worries were unjustified. He was over eighty and plump even for a Hobbit, and his capacity for food was renowned. She suspected if he were a man, he would have found his plot some years earlier. But his love of a good meal was obvious, and the sympathy came unbidden. Bilbo gave her a pie recipe that would be gentle on Olo's figure.

Village apothecary proved a profitable and valued trade. Many of her customers used itch cream, hand lotions, and dish cleaner, or requested stomach settlers, throat lathers, and sleeping potions—all byproducts of the celebratory manner of her little neighbors. The remedies were easy enough to make, so long as one knew how to raise the ingredients. Each Hobbit perked at her arrival, and she almost made it from the pub when someone called out.

She reached the door just as a young fellow cut her off. He was barely twenty, quite fond of flirting, and equally adept at drinking at all hours.

Lily produced a polite smile. "Berilac Buckleberry, what a surprise to see you here."

He grinned, but its charm was lost amidst the blurry stare. "Lily, I jus wan you to know, iff you _ever_ need a showler to cry on, I 'm here for you." He patted his shoulder with a hiccup.

"That's very sweet, thank you." She tried stepping around, but he leaned across the doorway.

"I woo _gla'ly _toes to you. For your honor."

"Oh that's um, very brave, Berry, thank you." She patted his head, but he fell over in a drunken heap. No one minded, and she stepped over. Berilac wasn't her only admirer but hands down the most persistent and least successful.

Olo bid her farewell at his gate, and she continued home. She set the empty basket on the table then perused the pantry for ingredients. Her cooking skills needed work, but with enough trial and error, she could whip up anything. Where was that bloody pot? She used it recently, she knew she had, but where did it go? The search was almost abandoned, when she recollected it whereabouts.

"Bullocks." It must be at Bilbo's. She left the counter cluttered and swept up the lane for the home under the hill. He was her dearest friend in Hobbiton, and she could not manage to stop doting on the Baggins. Some talked about their frequent comings and goings, but what were neighbors for if not to mutter hearsay?

She rounded the bend and slowed at the old man leaving through Bilbo's front gate. Bilbo _didn't_ have strangers over, which made her watch the grey figure until he strolled out of sight. Huh. Something about that pointy hat…

Lily took the walkway to the round, green door and tried the handle. Locked. She had a bad habit of barging in unannounced, but Bilbo gave up a while ago trying to shame her into protocol. She knocked. "Bilbo, are you home?"

The sound of moving locks proceeded, and, in seconds, his large brown eyes peeped cautiously through the crack at her confused stare.

She raised a slightly amused eyebrow. "Bilbo Baggins, what in the fairying forest are you doing?"

He cleared his throat and stood back to let her in. "Nothing, just uh, making sure the bees don't get in."

Her expression didn't change. "Bees?" He nodded, and she tried not to snort at the awful lie. "Right." She shrugged her eyebrows and stepped inside. "I came to inquire about that big pot I brought last time."

"Yes of course! Meant to bring it over later." He shut the door and went straight away for the kitchen. "Practicing on the younglings?"

She remained in the hall. "Olo Smials, actually. His wife's put him on some sort of regimen, so I thought a nice pie might cheer him up. Assuming I get it right; I always bungle the first time."

"Oh I dunno." He came back carrying the pot and smiled crookedly. "Your dumplings turned out rather nice, I thought."

She smirked and took the crockery. "If you'd tasted the first three batches, you wouldn't think so." His chuckle made her giggle then motion at the door. "Who was the fellow that just left? Friend of yours?"

"Oh no no, he was just um, trying to sell something."

"Really? What?"

"Hm?"

"What was he selling?"

The pause stretched. "Fireworks." Her questions made him uneasy, and she diverted to a grin. Whoever it was, Bilbo was not comfortable discussing him.

"How lovely! I'd like to have some myself." She waved the cookery and opened the door. "I'll let you know how it turns out."

"Good luck."

Back in her home, she put the old man out of her mind, tied back her hair, and rubbed her hands together. "Who needs luck with skills like mine?"

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, none of those skills were helpful in putting a pie together. Her first two were complete failures, and she helped a neighbor prune his garden to rethink her strategy. Now, she carefully lifted the fourth pie from the oven and set it on the table. The middle sat flat, but appearances were not everything. She let it cool then tried a fork-full.<p>

Her face didn't flinch at this point. Not even close, and the pie went out the window. "Well, at least it didn't explode this time." Maybe she remembered it wrong.

She tossed the apron on the back of a chair and stepped into her slippers then headed outdoors. Her hair was a mess and her face blotched with rough ingredients, but he was the one who tried teaching her to cook—he had seen worse.

"Evening, Primrose." Lily ignored the dame's confused stare and winked at the blue-eyed child beside her. "Azaelia." The youngling giggled, and Lily bustled up the lawn back to the green door. It opened freely this time, and her nose absorbed the faded traces of food. He certainly devoured supper quickly.

"I told you it wouldn't work," she called as she neared mumbling to the left of Bagg End, "but this time I'm sure it's the reci—" She stopped at the fifteen pairs of eyes on her. They sat around the table, squished elbow to elbow and obviously in the midst of serious discussion. "Oh."

Bilbo pushed around the same grey gentleman from that morning and pulled her aside into the barren storeroom. "What're you doing here?" he asked nervously.

She scoffed. "What am _I _doing here? You do realize your dining room is full of _Dwarves_? And what on Earth happened to your pantry?"

"Yes exactly, so why don't we talk about this later?" He took her arm and ushered her down the hallway as the curious strangers watched. "Tomorrow's great."

"Oh don't be ridiculous." She easily slipped free and entered the room with a grin as several of them straightened. "Good evening, sirs. My name is Lily, I live just down the lane."

The one closest to her right removed the pipe from his lips, took her hand, and shook it too enthusiastically. "Bofur, my lovely lady."

Two others pulled him back out of their way and bowed repeatedly. "Nori," said one. "Dori," chimed the other.

Someone fumbled on her other side, and she blinked as a younger Dwarf, probably the youngest, took her hand and said with practiced suave, "Kíli, at your every service."

He caught an elbow in the chest as a blonde Dwarf stepped up, took her hand, and kissed it with a slow smile. "Fíli."

"Aye, and I'm Dwalin!" shouted the one beside the old man.

"Óin!" the next chipped in.

The smallest stood meekly. "That's Bifur, and this is Bombur." He grew flustered under her attention. "My name's Ori."

"Glóin."

The Dwarf with the whitest hair pushed Nori and Dori back to their seats and gestured Fíli and Kíli away then bowed low. "Deepest apologies. We're not used to such fine company. I'm Balin."

They were so pleasantly jovial she could not stop beaming. "A joy to meet each of you."

The old man hunched to let Kíli and Fíli pass and took the chance to greet her. "It is my sincerest honor to make your acquaintance, Miss Lily. I am Gandalf."

"The Grey." Not a man; a wizard. Her father spoke of him when she was young, including his tomfoolery. She winked at his wonder. "Bilbo said you were selling fireworks."

"Did he?" he chuckled. Silly indeed, to think up such a weak fib.

The closest Dwarf kept quiet and was seated at the end of the table with his back to her, but she considered him. "And you, sir?"

Lily suspected everyone's stares were the only reason he cleared his throat and turned a polite nod. "Thorin."

She smiled and extended her hand. "Thorin."

His name brought their gaze together, and she fluttered at the sharp blue irises. He had a lengthy face marked by a short beard uncharacteristic of a Dwarf. His long, dark hair streaked by some grey waved down his broad shoulders much simpler than the others' except for a few braids. The brow line crinkled like his expression seldom changed from brooding calm. He was someone of significance.

He took her offer reluctantly, his large hand hardly flexing around hers, but its temperateness kept her smile. She could not explain why, but she knew his was a face not soon forgotten.

"Yes well, it's been wonderful." Bilbo pulled her away and down the hall. She let him but noticed Thorin kept her gaze until they turned a corner. What did he think of her? "We were having a private supper, actually, so perhaps come back in the morning." How long might they stay? "Or the afternoon, or even dusk—goodbye!" Bilbo pushed her through the door and quickly locked it.

Lily smirked and turned on the green barrier. Keeping her out only made the urge to eavesdrop stronger—and she could, even through closed windows.

But really now! That was before. Her life had changed, and she shook the idea from her head. What was she thinking? This was Bilbo Baggins, for goodness sake. What sort of trouble could he possibly craft?

Her eye caught a blue light near the ground, and she crouched. A mark carved on the door also glowed a distinct azure. Her fingers traced the 'G' rune. She saw it before in her father's books but didn't understand its significance. Why would Gandalf put his symbol on a Hobbit door? The whole scenario was bizarre and suspicious, two characteristics Bilbo hadn't managed before, which made it all the stranger.

Don't vie for others' secrets unless you want them prying for yours. Her mentor's caution resonated around her head as loud as always. Even after these years, he was impossible to ignore.

She flicked her hair from her forehead and went home. There would be opportunity enough for further interrogation, but more pressing matters were afoot—what was the kink in that bloody recipe?

* * *

><p>She rose early the next morning to reevaluate her memory and try again. Should the product come out right, maybe she could use it as an excuse to linger whereabouts a bit longer. The strangers' presence raised many questions, and she decided in the imagining of dreams that it would be best to get them out of Bilbo's house as soon as possible. If she could discover their intent, it might speed the process along.<p>

Luck smiled on her as she tasted the dessert. Hah! Thought so. This one came out just right. She placed it in a small basket, pushed her hair into a lavender bonnet, and cleaned her face then hurried off to Bilbo's. He must be roused by now, with so many guests afoot, but it would probably do to knock. The last thing she desired was the sight of Bombur with his trousers down. She pushed the basket to one arm and raised her fist.

Wait. She bent over and rubbed her hand across the bottom of the door. The mark was gone. "How—?"

The wood swung back abruptly, and she reeled away as Bilbo almost ran her over. She had never seen him hasten anywhere and spoke through laughter when he charged down the lane. "Gracious, what's gotten into you?" She hurried to the bend and watched him jump and dash his way down the hillside.

"Dear, Mr. Bilbo!" a neighbor chuckled. "Where're you off to?"

"Can't stop, I'm already late!" he replied without a glance back.

"Late for what?"

"I'm going on an adventure!" And he was gone.

She knew those words all too well: I want adventure! she'd said and didn't require permission to find some. Why anyone would seek quiet and domesticity eluded her teenaged mind that abhorred both qualities fervidly. No small experience led her here, and she survived the struggle with useful skills embedded from childhood.

Bilbo possessed none of that. He knew slight of the world, guided by an imagination he often pretended not to possess. How had those silly Dwarves coaxed him into it? Better yet, _why_ had they? He retained no useful qualities for expedition, so far as she could fathom. What was going on?

She sighed and took her time getting to Olo's. He was thrilled by the delivery and started into it before the door even closed behind her. Once home, she stood outside the bedroom window and breathed deep of jasmine.

There was nothing to be done for it. Another whimsical sigh, and she shut the window. "All things must end some time."

Her mind drifted to the chest tucked away in the darkest corner, buried beneath books and clothes and whatever else might balance. That girl felt like so long ago…

_TA 2898_

Golradir passed silently, his long chestnut mane drooped over his shoulders while he crept through the rose garden. He would not find her. Her playmates excelled above her in nearly every way except one. Twas a natural gift; her perfect camouflage had been exceptional even as a toddler.

He drifted past, and Lily stood up in the bushes. He would come back once her footsteps disturbed the brush, but she grinned and sprinted in the other direction. They could track her, they could outrun her, they could even outmatch her, but they would not find her. No one beat her at hide and seek!

"Fëa?"

She stopped in the courtyard and grinned at the brown-eyed face paused in the entryway. "Father!" She hurried over and lowered her voice. "Shhhh, I'm hiding from Golradir."

He pointed an eyebrow and tucked both hands behind him. "What a coincidence, because I was looking for you, too."

She suddenly recalled all the things she had managed in the last day. "What have I done?"

"What do you suppose?" She knew better than to throw herself in the fire, and he figured as much and didn't waste time with a dramatic pause. "Fanáro reports he saw you near the hidden pass." Uh-oh. Her guilty expression confessed all, and his forehead creased. "Why?"

Always why. He believed there were tangible reasons behind every act, and maybe there was, but words would not always explain them. One just knew when action must be taken!

She shrugged and kept his sharp eye. "I wanted to see for myself." What, she could not decide, but the answer softened his resolve.

Three calm, quiet steps brought him directly in front of her, and she blinked at his long back. Then her ears heard footsteps. Just around the corner now, and the feet stopped.

"My Lord," came a surprised voice.

"Golradir. Practicing?"

"We're tracking Lily. She's always the hardest to find."

"Only if you don't know where to look."

"Yes, My Lord." Golradir took the dismissal on quick heels.

After a moment, her father turned and produced an impish smirk. "Always on your little ventures."

She grinned. "Will we go on one together one day?"

He kneeled gracefully, swung her up in his arms, and smiled. "One day. But first—Golradir!"

"Traitor!"

* * *

><p>She had been discovered that day but crept up the rock face now entirely undetected. No one noticed her mimicking their trail since she caught up to Bilbo in the woods outlying the Shire. Her legs were somewhat out of practice, and the Company had the advantage of ponies, but she kept pace well enough.<p>

Despite the effort, she felt remarkably at ease. She had entered Hobbiton eager for a place to begin fresh, and the Hobbits did right by her. Yet, sword at her hip and leather tight against her thighs, she sensed a part of herself resurfacing that she had not realized was at rest. A part that—well, in Bilbo's own words—sought adventure.

The fire below crackled, though its power was slightly diminished by the harsh growl of Bombur's snores. Amazing any of them could sleep in the same vicinity, and Bilbo obviously agreed, for he sat up suddenly, stretched, and walked to his pony. Most of them sat tinkering amongst themselves or lay dozing slowly into wonderland. Gandalf leaned near the outskirts smoking his pipe, lost in thoughts Lily could only speculate. The leader, Thorin, sat on the other end rested against a rock and unwillingly nodding off.

A screech broke through the camp's sounds, and her ears perked like the rest. She had smelled them earlier but hoped they might endeavor elsewhere. Wishful thinking.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, jittery.

"Orcs," answered Kíli softly.

"_Orcs_?" he repeated and scurried closer to the camp.

"Throat cutters," added Fíli. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kíli continued. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Bilbo's eyes snapped back to the dark forest around them, and Lily quirked an eyebrow at the subtle smile Kíli passed Fíli. What mischief-makers, but correct mischief-makers. Her encounters with the wicked race seldom ended well.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin had risen from his spot in the corner and now crossed the youngsters. His deep voice was firm and grave, much like his expression. "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kíli spoke seriously and lowered his gaze.

"No you didn't." His point was made, and he strode away. "You know nothing of the world."

Lily watched his facade fade into the dim shadows of the fire and rested her chin on her hand. Her familiarity with Dwarves was slim, and their history had not been primary learning, but she knew enough to understand stout pride. This was something else. _This_ Dwarf carried secrets: dire, nightmarish, and treacherous enigmas.

"Don't mind him, laddie." Balin approached from the safety of his own spot and leaned upon the rock face beside Fíli. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

He recounted a tale, not unlike many she heard in adolescence or on her travels. King Thrór and a battle for Moria, an army led by a pale orc named Azog bent on destroying the line of Durin. It started with the beheading of Thror, which led his son, Thráin, to lose his mind then disappear. Thrór's grandson, Thorin, faced off the Defiler alone, wielding but an oaken branch, and cut off his enemy's hand. The orc forces were driven back, and the Dwarves claimed victory.

"But there was no feast nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived."

The Battle of Azanulbizar, the last and greatest clash of the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. Her tutor excelled at the long history of the Misty Mountains, and the fight for Moria was one of many recounts. He also spoke of a prince who lost all of his family on the mountainside but led his people to victory. The grandson of King Thror, Son of Prince Thráin, descendant of the line of Durin, and heir to the throne of Erebor: Thorin II, renamed Thorin Oakenshield after his valor at Azanulbizar.

And he told her of Smaug.

"And I thought to myself then: there is one who I could follow; there is one I could call King."

Reclaim the Lonely Mountain. Kill a dragon. Of all the adventures Bilbo chose, he picked one as mad as this.

"And the pale orc?" Bilbo's voice brought her gaze back to the fire, and he sat listening intently to Balin's story. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin answered and crossed back through the light to his perch. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Lily frowned when Bilbo pulled his legs closer to his chest and stared anxiously at the forest once more. He was afraid, a great doubt stirring in his mind. He could still turn back, hurry home to the Shire and the comforts of his hole. He should. She understood the corrosive doubt that turned children into adults faster than age itself.

But regret would follow him to the end of his days. Somehow, in the core of her unrefined instincts, she knew he needed this. The drive was insatiable; she grasped that, too.

Lily carefully rose up then leapt over. Her soles landed quietly, but her appearance in the midst of camp roused swords and axes alike, and she grinned at their bewilderment. "Evening, lads."

"Lily!" Bilbo's voice spurred several of the others to swoop in and shower her in smiles and hellos and variations of delight, but the Hobbit jumped up and pushed through the excitement to take her hands. His contagious smile accompanied her kiss upon his cheek.

"You didn't think you were going on an adventure without me, did you?" she winked, and his sigh took a load off his small shoulders.

"We have enough help from the Shire." The surrounding Dwarves parted, and she met Thorin's stern eye. Her arrival annoyed him, and the others backed away a step at his underlying reminder. "We have no place for a small girl." She looked young, but she and Bilbo were the same age. Perhaps not impressive to a Dwarf but certainly not inferior enough to be deemed a child.

She tilted her head with a cool smile. "I hardly think someone of your bearing would fault me physical challenges, Dwarf." His eyes narrowed, and smugness lifted her voice. "But rest with great assurance that I'm a fully-grown woman. Though I am willing to defer to a," she looked him over, unimpressed, "veteran." Kíli turned, but she noted the light traces of humor.

Thorin was not entertained, and they proceeded to stare each other down like unrelenting rivals. He couldn't intimidate her, no matter how exceptional his icy glare. Her father's scold instilled greater fears by far, and not even he could frighten her into changing her mind. Stubbornness took her this far, after all, and saved her as often as it got her into trouble. Argue all you wish, King, but they were stuck with her.

"How did you find us, lass?" Balin asked, and she let his question interrupt their silent conclave.

"I didn't find you; I followed you. It was easy to catch up to Bilbo in the woods then hang back until necessary." The orcs screeched again, and they all watched the forest. She shrugged her eyebrows. "Now seemed like a good time to join forces."

Everyone exchanged unspoken conversation, and she returned her gaze to Thorin, who had not desisted. Nevertheless, the eyes were different. Their battle shifted ferocity for the briefest moment, and her cunning smirk shifted to a subtle smile. The crease of his brow softened while the corners of his frown straightened. She amused him.

"Impressive." Gandalf's voice startled her, but only her lashes fluttered. It was enough to remind them of their war, and they both appeared edgy. Had anyone noticed their implicit fun? "To have come so far undetected."

Thorin's glare distinguished itself once more but held no unkindness. Neither did hers, though it refused to back down. "I'm not leaving," she added simply.

His sharp gaze studied her while long seconds passed, and her body struggled to remain unresponsive. She always resisted tranquility unless a game was afoot that required the utmost subtlety. This was more than agitation; intense energy quickened her pulse and urged her forward—nearer to him by unseeable strings invisibly lashing them together. It was not a sensation she was especially accustomed to, and her mouth opened to break the rope.

"You're responsible for your own weight," he cut in first, and the deep vibrations of his voice made her skin a tad gooey. "You'll receive no special treatment just because you're a woman."

"Of course not." Her voice's calm came as a surprise, but she pulled back her shoulders for extra umph. "You won't even notice I'm here." He nodded curtly then retook his seat.

Her admirers—Fíli, Kíli, Nori, Dori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and Óin—swarmed in once more and proceeded to offer her rations, blankets, and a cozy spot to rest. Their merriment made her giggle and accept the first two but decline the second and put an arm around Bilbo. They were not dampened by the decision and instead moved their own settlements around her and cozied in for the night. She was surrounded on all sides by Dwarves packed close, elbows and feet mooshed together, but they all bore happy smiles. It was nice. She felt safe and warm, like home.

Her gaze passed once more to Thorin and was surprised to find it occupied with her movements. They kept hold a few moments only, then he closed his eyes and settled back to a restless sleep.

She let out a subconscious breath and tucked the blanket tight against her shoulders.


	3. Chapter 2

_**An Unexpected Journey**_

_By Avalon Shiranui_

**Chapter Two**

_TA 2907_

Lily stared up at the gentle moonlight that let her bask in its gleam much the way a great beauty politely ignored the admirations of her lesser. It was used to her by now, surely, for the countless nights she watched it rise and fall as it had many times past; yet for all their companionship, the white light kept its secrets. The sun lived in laughter and venture, almost naïve to the events taking place below, but the moon saw all and knew better. Its life was a silent one.

"What on Middle Earth are you doing up there?"

She glanced down and grinned at the dark-haired figure below. "Are you stalking me again, Caran?"

He smirked and quickly climbed the cliff face then leapt from stone to stone until reaching her perch that stuck straight out past the waterfall and into the horizon. She always loved this spot, where land and sky seemed to hold no sway. He mimicked her by draping his legs over the front.

"Moonlighting again. I wouldn't gaze too long if I were you, or you're liable to fall in love."

"What are you on about this time?"

"Well they say if you spend enough time observing her, she'll cast a love spell upon you, so that whomever you give your heart to afterwards, you're doomed to love them forever."

"And how long is too long?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask the one who first made the claim." He laid back and crossed his arms behind his head. "But I think it's already too late for you."

"Thanks."

His shamrock irises twinkled in the starry glow, and the gentility of her oldest friend's presence set her at ease. He was young by comparison to all the life left in him, but at seventeen she thought him as old as the moon and equally as wise. He understood her ways, or exercised unique patience, and her adoration for him was endless.

"I suppose you're here on Father's behalf?" she teased and lay back as well.

"If you could avoid making a spectacle, these conversations wouldn't be necessary." 'Spectacle' was a bit strong; she didn't wish to be caught, after all.

"Why should I? I have just as much right as the rest."

"Because it's not your way," he responded minimally, like the answer were obvious to everyone but her.

She meant to kill it, really, as she rose from her place in the brush with an arrow ready. The morning had been cool, dew drops thick against her clothes, but she was patient. The buck came right past her, and now she was ready. But she didn't do it. Not from moral burdens or hesitation. She simply…didn't.

He was right. If she had a way, hunter was not it.

Returning home with the only empty hands, nevertheless, brought frustrating repercussions. Once doubt sunk in, uprooting the nuisance became near impossible. No one said so, but their thoughts were not far removed from her own. Her father and Caran were the only ones who seemed unbothered by the failed venture, though the first used it to keep her from sporting parties these days.

She much preferred study and stories, long hours lost in books or listening to elders' tales—Caran told the best. But she wanted adventures of her own, not a peaceable existence occupied only with texts or mundane routine. If a few rules must be broken to outgrow the confines of this life, the sacrifice was made ardently.

"It won't always be like this." Caran had a way of reading her thoughts, or maybe he learned the nature of her mind by now. They exchanged a glance, and he smiled sympathetically. "Change inevitably comes."

Lily nodded then raised her hand. He took it and rubbed his nimble thumb over hers as she held tight. Caran was always right. Someday, her life would be grand.

* * *

><p>"Ask her."<p>

"You ask her."

"I'm not asking that."

"You're the one who brought it up."

Lily resisted a smile. Fíli and Kíli had argued for the last hour about a question they concocted the night before. She sat backwards and leaned against Bilbo while reading a particularly dicey section in her book. Caran read it to her many times, so there would be no surprises, but the story was slightly convoluted by the surrounding chatter.

The Company had only traveled a short while, and already most decided their place. The youngest, including Ori, took posts closest to her and seldom relinquished them, for others were only too eager to take their place. Bifur contributed nothing in the way of conversation but unpacked her share of materials and kept the pony ready. Bombur made certain that, excluding himself, she got first rations at every stop. Dori waited on her hand and foot, even when she wanted for nothing, and Nori battled his brother's responses to her suggestions. Óin learned quickly her love of conversation and recounted a few monologues whenever the opportunity arose. Luckily, Bofur stayed close enough to answer questions, as Óin often misheard her inquiries. Balin laughed at their eagerness to please her, and his omniscient glimmer reminded her a great deal of her beloved father.

She stuck to Bilbo like a mother hen, but Gandalf kept a vigilant watch. For whatever reason, he cared a great deal for the Hobbit. He saw something the rest of them didn't, and her curiosity formulated wild theories of his true intentions. Even so, she occasionally caught him studying her, too. Those old eyes held secrets only the moon must know.

Glóin and Dwalin openly disapproved. The previous grumbled and snarled at his kinsmen's behavior and spoke against some tagalong they knew nothing about and that served no apparent use. Dwalin usually rolled his eyes at them or watched her with blatant mistrust. They had seen more than their share of unscrupulous characters, but their rejection didn't dampen her mood.

The King was a different picture. He kept to himself most times, but she felt his stare at night when he fancied himself invisible on the edge of the firelight. He probably doubted her, too, yet that didn't stop her stealing glances at him.

"Lily." She closed her book, and Kíli trotted up beside her. "Some of us were wondering, uh…" He glanced back at his brother then her. "Are you married?"

She grinned and answered simply, "No."

Kíli beamed, passed an excited look to Fíli, and straightened. "Excellent. You don't mind an age gap, do you?" Balin swatted his head, and Kíli flinched. "I mean, you look amazing, I'm not suggesting you look old or anything. I'm only in my late seventies, and we could pass for the same age." Another swat. "I mean you-you and I both look young, cause we are young, for our race, I mean. Obviously you don't resemble an eighty-year-old woman in _any _way. I mean you're, what?" One more hit.

Lily giggled as Kíli blushed under Balin's scorn. "I'm reasonably younger than you, Master Dwarf, and place absolutely no value on age. Love doesn't consider such variances."

His eyes filled with stars. "Brilliant."

Glóin grunted and pushed his pony further up the line with a grumble about "dainty distractions."

Much of the days carried on in similar fashion as some made merry while others ruffled behind their beards. Even Gandalf got a bit silly when they burst into song here and there. Nothing changed any of them for better or worse, neither obligation nor conversation, and their unabashed joviality kept her in happy spirits the further they mushed.

There was a rather unfortunate deluge that stretched across several days and threatened their optimism, but it, too, finally cleared, and they pushed ahead. Nevertheless, drenched Dwarf was not a pleasant smell, and Lily praised all when they pitched camp near a small river.

Most of them disappeared within minutes, and the sound of their games through the trees sparked envy. Her luxuries were diverse from the rest, being the only lady, and the limitations grew taxing. What she would not do for a hot bath. Shire life spoiled her, but cleanliness was ingrained since birth. She had experienced worse, albeit involuntarily.

The last group returned for supper, and everyone gathered to laugh and rest. A few hours passed, and nearly all were asleep. Balin stood watch and winked as she crept off. His signal sent her sprinting through the forest, tossing apparel along the way, and lunging face-first into the rapids. Ah, the feel of fresh water!

Lily dove beneath the current and smiled at fish wandering about. She grew up a keen swimmer and could hold her breath a good while—victory at hide and seek was acquired a time or two sitting at the bottom of a river. She felt at home all over again while the moon searched her out overhead.

A good hour passed before she laid out on a rock to dry. Her eyelids developed heaviness, so she collected her garments and dressed until she heard a splash. Someone else fancied a bath. The campfire flickered upon the hill, signaling her back, but the stranger drew her near. They did not make much further ruckus save the usual sounds of a long-awaited wash. Just one brief peep over her rock.

Thorin scrubbed his face and beard then took handfuls of drink. Everything above water gleamed bare and wet, and the Great Light traced the thick arms and broad, hard chest with glorious favoritism. His long locks splayed in dark curls across those strong shoulders as the muscles in his back tightened at each movement; the thick hair journeyed further than his head and disappeared beneath the current. Gracious. Dwarves weren't just bulky apparel then.

About the time a full blush filled her face, her hand slipped on the sodden surface, and she splashed into the depths below. Bullocks! The beast—lovely as he proved to be—would have the whole forest in arms by now. Maybe she could swim away…? Doh, they would notice her absence. Tsk.

Slowly, Lily breached the surface and found Thorin ashore pointing his sword in her direction. Just his actual sword, thankfully, for he apparently bathed with his trousers on.

He sighed irritably, sheathed the blade, and marched back into the river. "What are you doing out here?"

"Same as you. I couldn't go like everyone else. What's your excuse?"

"I like moments alone from time to time." He waded right up, put his arm around her, and lifted her out of the water. "You shouldn't wander off alone." He carried her back to shore, and she couldn't help putting her elbow around his neck. "It isn't safe."

"What would you have me do? Bring a buddy?"

"You're so clever." He put her down roughly. "Figure it out." He trekked back into the rapids without another glance. She was dismissed.

Hmph! "It's not my fault I'm a woman, you know. You may thank my parents for that misfortune."

"Go back to camp."

"But I'm well capable of making my own decisions. I got this far fine without you."

"A miracle. _Camp_." He dunked below.

Lily puffed her chest, tightened her bun, and splashed in. He was easy to find thanks to the jealous effulgence, and she pinched his side—hard. He shot out while she breached the water to his explosive snarl.

"What are you doing?!"

"I won't be snubbed because you don't know how to treat a lady!"

"A lady?" he scoffed. "A lady wouldn't be swimming at night with a fellow _not_ her husband."

"I'm not swimming _with _you, I'm swimming _near_ you. And who are you to judge? At least I'm not half naked!"

"Yes, I'm sure you were fully clothed before you chose to spy on me."

"I wasn't spying!"

"No?" He raised his eyebrows challengingly, and she gawked through a response. Technically… "You're no lady, no matter how much you enjoy the attention."

"_What_? I haven't asked them to do anything!"

"Perhaps not directly, but you have other ways."

"'_Ways_'?"

"You charm them with sweet words and friendly conversation. Throw in that loaded smile, and they're eating out of your hand."

Lily wanted to argue, but his backwards compliment created a torrent of laughter that raged inside and managed to find a crack to squeeze through. It irritated him, and she tried to subdue it. No luck.

"You think this is funny?"

"A bit, yes. Do you realize this is the most you've ever said to me, and it comes in the form of an argument? What does that say about you?"

"It says you're frustrating my patience." He glared, but she grinned wider.

"You fight like a seasoned husband. What does she think of all this?"

Thorin growled and marched past her for shore. "We're done."

But she was at his heels. "Do you have children, too?"

"Stay here as long as you wish." He gathered his clothes and boots and headed up the hill.

"Fíli and Kíli would probably tell me more."

"Ask them whatever you like, as you always do."

"Wait!" She cut him off, and he stopped short of her outstretched arms. "Wait, please."

"Sweet tones hold no sway over me." He tried stepping around her, but she shoved her hands flat against his boulder-sized chest.

"I want to hear it from you!" She quickly stepped away but retained his gaze. "I want to hear you talk a while."

His expression didn't change. What was she on about anyway? Since when did she care for the company of the self-righteous? He was arrogant, bull-headed, and rude, qualities she learned from her father to abhor. Suddenly her words sang a new tune just because he showed some skin? Beautifully crafted, there were no arguments, but there must be more. The deep voice that surpassed the conscious and spoke to darker parts of the mind? Perhaps the bow lips that artfully formed every gruff word? Or the hair? She fancied the salt and pepper look.

All miniscule in the presence of those eyes and the way they looked at her. She only then realized how comforted she was to find them watching her each night. The why didn't matter, not to her, as long as they were there. And here they were now, openly drinking her in beneath the pale night.

"No." His voice startled her, but it came softer than usual. "I'm not married. Fíli and Kíli are my only legacy."

"But there was someone once, wasn't there?" The prolonged pause confirmed. "What happened to her?" His gaze drifted miles away, years beyond. "Oh." The dragon. "Is that why you took this quest?"

"We all have many reasons, each one our own business to keep. You see to your Hobbit and mind your own." He pushed onward, and she let him.

The fading façade brought pain to her chest. His life was so sad, yet he refused to be swayed by trials or distractions. Stubborn. Maybe they were not so different.

She wondered what her name was…

* * *

><p>Unfortunately for Thorin, Lily had no qualms with annoying someone for answers. He got away during riding hours when she sat with Bilbo and the others, but at every stop and each encampment she was at his side dishing out inquiries. Occasionally he answered, but mostly he argued or ignored her. Sometimes he tried intimidating her into silence, which was just silly. He realized quickly her capacity to talk for hours without interruption and that attempting to hush her only made it worse.<p>

Balin, Kíli, Fíli, and Gandalf served valuable information, as well, though no great secrets that might land them in trouble. He was the eldest child, and the young ones were nephews by his sister, Dís, who remained in the Blue Mountains to await her family's return. There was a brother, as well, who died in the Battle of Azanulbizar, but that was all any would say of him. Thorin became a blacksmith and crafted a new, good life for what remained of his people. The forge kept him strong, though Balin thought the flames' reminder grew an awful hate in his king—"a great anger without hope." Most importantly, this quest was Thorin's to lead, but Gandalf's concoction. What was the grand mastermind plotting behind those ancient eyes?

Lily spared the twenty questions some nights later and broke from the group. She wanted time alone to ponder her liege. He was honorable, despite his attitude, and obviously brave beyond the majority. It took rare courage to face one's demons, and Smaug's devastation followed his nightmares for so long. If he could overcome his darkness, perhaps she could, too.

Would _they_ remain angry with her?

A small, empty clearing put her at reasonable distance from the camp, but the voices were audible. She drew her sword and hacked the air. It was heavier than she remembered, not that she used it much to begin with. She favored cleverness over violence, or stealth opposed to strength. More of her 'way,' no doubt.

"You won't best many foes like that." She was surprised she hadn't heard him before; he must have been there already.

She faced Thorin's position at the tree line and squelched a flutter. Moonlight against his flesh reminded her of finer features, and the bright glow made his gaze even bluer than the sea. "Fighting's not in my nature."

"I disagree." He approached, casual enough, but his pale eyes upon hers made her skin tingle. "You enjoy a challenge." He was, indeed, quite a challenge. "Although, you might reconsider your limitations."

"Is this another push to cease my inquiries, or are you suggesting I should go home before I'm in over my head?" Gentlefellows put women's safety above most else, but Lily got the impression he wanted her gone for other reasons.

He stopped near her, hands against his belt, and met her scrutiny straight on. They were almost the same height—he had maybe seven or eight centimeters on her—yet he stood so much larger. His silence seemed to speak a great deal, not just of his inherent power but of his hold. He did have a way of looking at her…

She kept her poise and turned away with another loose wave of the weapon. "Maybe I don't see the point in killing. Maybe I prefer chivalry to quarrel."

"Or maybe you lack the proper incentive." He stepped quick and heavy, and the large blade whistled as it cut upwards for her torso. She threw back from the attack and stumbled away ahead of the numerous swings that ensued. He was surprisingly fast, and the element of surprise gave him the advantage. Was he trying to kill her?!

Her back hit a tree then dipped beneath a swing, twirled around the large trunk, and scaled the branches in moments. He backed slowly away into the clearing. She could probably sneak around him, but his eyes were sharp and their distance enough. There was always retreat, or wait him out. What precisely was he plotting?

"An impressive trick," he said almost amused. "Perhaps we've chosen the wrong burglar."

A dare. Caran always liked games, and Thorin may have been right: she did appreciate a good contest. She had memorized his body from head to toe, the flex of his arms and the strength of his legs to the reach of his back and the arch of his neck. The advantage was hers.

Her descent from the canopy was perfect, and nothing made a sound as she stepped onto the grass. Her sword was ready. One deep breath, and she charged. Thorin rounded just in time and met her swing. She didn't waste effort confronting his strength and ducked then slammed her shoulder against him. His body was solid beneath the layers, but he fumbled one step. It was all she needed to swipe her blade skyward, knocking his off, then jump up and double kick him square in the chest. He stepped further now, stunned and briefly dependent on his sword, and she sprinted at him. Her arms around his neck swung her about, latching her against him while her feet slammed into the back of his knees. He stumbled back to recover, and the pounce was only intended to confuse him.

Except his foot found the edge of their clearing and took them both rolling down a hill. They hit the bottom roughly, and he groaned as she landed on top. Not quite the plan, and she lay prostrate on him a moment as reality set in.

Then she raised up. "Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head, "No, it's fine," and looked at her. "I've had worse."

It surprised her how much handsomer he appeared up close. But despite her blush, she snorted then laughed and pressed her forehead into his chest. Victory was victory, although winning by accident didn't exactly qualify as a triumph.

"We should get back to camp."

She lifted her head again and blinked at his eyes on her. The strings of grey in his hair and beard aged him little except for the fierce nobility that shadowed him always. He was not stern then, yet his hand on her arm burned the flesh. How did he do this?

"Lily?" Ori's sweet tone called from above. "Where are you?"

She smiled, ducked her head from the sudden flush, and stood. "I'm here, Ori. I'll be there in a moment." She brushed herself off and searched out her sword in the fallen brush.

"Try not to wander off." He found his blade and started up the hill. "Else they'll be in a blind panic." Lily smirked and sheathed her sword.

Mordor freeze over—Thorin Oakenshield made a joke.

* * *

><p>Lily's favorite part of her new friends was their ability to exaggerate almost anything. Funny became hysterical, difficult bordered impossible, a sip meant a pint, a moment was immeasurable, resting one's eyes led to short comas, and so on. Personalities and specialties made them characters, but all possessed a manner of absurdity about them. Most notably Kíli's way of asking questions.<p>

"So, if you claim you're not a Hobbit—not that you're lying, I would never think that."

"My feet don't give it away?" she answered with a wink at Balin's chuckle.

"She does have delicate feet," noted Ori and Dori.

"Then that also means you're not from the Shire, doesn't it? Then where is home?"

"Home is where my feet take me."

"How'd you end up in the Shire?" added Nori.

She shrugged, pushing Bilbo's chin off her shoulder, and absently scratched the pony's mane. "Much like yourself: looking for a place to conclude a journey."

"What about your family?" Ori suggested.

"We all must strike out on our own, haven't we?"

"Seek your own glory," Kíli nodded and stared off with deliberate majesty. Fíli threw an apple core at his brother's face, and everyone chuckled at Kíli's offense.

Bilbo lowered his voice such that she leaned back to hear. "Where did you voyage before Hobbiton?"

She smiled; he wasn't easily distracted. "Oh, a few places. I set out at eighteen and saw some grandeur to behold, a few I'd rather not repeat." Like those years listening to that noble pain flaunt his egotism through the great halls. A powerful, clever, dangerous affiliation happily left in the past.

"You never talked about your life. Ya know, before."

She gave a playful glance backward. "You never asked." No one ever did. In fact, Kíli was the first to voice interest in her privacy.

"Did you have any pets?" he asked curiously, and she beamed.

"We kept horses."

"What does your father do?"

"He keeps an eye on things, offers advice, that sort of work. He's an important member in the council."

"You grew up in the city?"

"Of sorts."

"Well that explains the cooking." They both laughed until Thorin brought the Company to a halt.

"We will camp here for the night," he declared as they reached the skeletal remains of an old home. "Fíli, Kíli, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them. Óin, Glóin, get a fire going."

Lily let Bilbo struggle down first then dismounted and took the reins. It nuzzled its fuzzy nose over her cheek and dropped its head on her shoulder. She scratched the shaggy mane and pressed her smile against its soft snout. They had grown fond of each other over the miles.

"I think it would be wiser to move on," Gandalf declared, and she perked her ears as Thorin approached him. "We could make for the Hidden Valley."

She lifted her eyes but noticed only the anger in Thorin's voice as he bit, "I have told you already. I will _not_ go near that place."

"Why not? The Elves could help us; we could get food, rest, advice—"

"I do not need their advice."

"We have a map that we cannot read," Gandalf replied as if explaining simple fact to a child. "Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help?" A preposterous concept? "A dragon attacks Erebor. What 'help' came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did _nothing_."

Caran said the truth remained unclear. The Dwarves and Elves both claimed ownership of riches in Erebor and traded allegiance for discord, a tension still prominent in the world today. He agreed that the treasures of the mountain belonged to those who put forth the effort, yet Dwarvish selfishness led not only to a broken friendship but their downfall and inevitable exile. Some grudges ran deep.

"You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them," Gandalf retorted sternly. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past!"

"I did not know that they were yours to keep!"

Gandalf paused, and she unharnessed Myrtle, ears sharp. He turned then and stomped away through the weave of ponies.

"Everything all right?" Bilbo asked as he stroked Balin's steed. "Gandalf? Where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," he snipped.

"And who's that?"

"_Myself_, Mr. Baggins!" He passed her then, and she heard him grumble, "I've had enough of Dwarves for one day."

Bilbo looked anxiously at Balin. "Is he coming back?" Balin sighed uncertainly, and the Hobbit turned to her. "He is, right?"

Lily smiled and pulled the saddle off Myrtle. "Of course. Don't worry about him. Wizards have a way of turning up at precisely the right time." She motioned him up the hillside and passed the saddle to Fíli. "Bombur could probably use some help with supper, hm?"

"Yes right." He looked after Gandalf once more then strode behind Bombur to make camp.

She exchanged a brief glance with Balin and joined Thorin in the farmhouse. His annoyance showed as usual, but she softened her voice. "What map and key?"

His lips thinned, and he leaned into the doorway. It would appear she had been making the wrong inquiries. She waited out his silence until he finally answered, "Remnants of the mountain, passed down to me."

"A way into Erebor?" He nodded. His weariness was understandable, but obstinacy had its faults—she could personally vouch for that. "Your list of friends is thin these days, Durin's Son. Don't drive them off before they've had a chance to prove useful."

He crossed his arms tighter across his chest, so she smacked his bicep and grinned at his surprised glare. "Lighten up." His frown deepened, but she kept her grin and steadily leaned closer until he turned his head away. "Grumpy Master Dwarf…" He scowled, pushed off the house, and stomped away. It only made her laugh and bustle after him. "Come back, Sullen Sir!"


	4. Chapter 3

_**An Unexpected Journey**_

_By Avalon Shiranui_

**Chapter Three**

Gandalf didn't return by nightfall, and the camp muttered quieter that night. Fíli and Kíli's duties elsewhere took energy out of the rest while Bombur and Bofur filled hungry bellies to sleep. She occupied herself with her book, the only one in her possession from home and not one any but Caran might notice omitted. He never told her if the grand quest was truth turned to legend or a total fiction; she chose to believe the former. Its pages relieved her of every responsibility, and a missing old sour puss was the last of her troubles.

A darker spot on the edge of base gave her extra silence, and the nosy moon's glow over her shoulder served most valuable. The others chose rest and warmth and supper over cavorting nearby, and Bilbo knew better than to interrupt good prose.

Someone did not share the sentiment. Her attentions were not diverted as he settled a good foot from her elbow. His pre-sleep cough made her blink then force her eyes upon the words as her lips pulled back from her teeth.

"You wouldn't be coming here expecting a moment of peace, surely?" No answer, and she cocked her head sideways at him. "You should know better."

Thorin ignored her and set his sword on his chest as he leaned back against a tree, eyes closed. He didn't worry over the wizard either, at least not visibly, but his prolonged silence made her wonder if he so easily disregarded their last conversation. He had never sought her camaraderie, not even the proximity of it. Something troubled him.

"I love books," she continued. "I've read dozens from all over, some more spectacular than others but all valuable in their way, though this is my favorite. I could probably recite it at this point, although for some reason I always hope he won't die."

"Most stories end in tragedy," he answered simply.

"That depends on one's definition of tragedy," she shrugged. "Is a hero who dies for his friends and leads the kingdom to prosperity really so awful? Sad, yes, but tragic? I don't think so." She smiled gently at the worn binding. "I just wonder how he would've lived when the battle was won."

He had no comment and might have been asleep if not for the firm grip on his hilt. There was no answer, but he listened. He had a way of overhearing, even if he pretended otherwise.

"I haven't read much of Dwarvish history. Is it like others, where different clans have their own stories, or is there more of a general history?"

He sighed impatiently, but his voice came steady, "Both. Some intersect at one point or another, but each family tells its tales."

"Like Erebor." He nodded. "My friend told me as a child, but I confess I found it confusing." Who betrayed who? What brought Smaug after so long? Why was the Arkenstone so important? Getting worked up over a piece of rock, no matter how finely cut or brightly polished, seemed ridiculous compared to all the trouble it brought. "What happened to Thráin?"

Now his eyes opened but stared calmly heavenward. "I haven't seen him in well over a hundred years."

"Then how did you come by the map and key? Did he give them to you before?"

"My father had many secrets, few of them shared with me." His grudge didn't match the remorseful expression. She knew Gandalf gave him both, and the fact wounded him. He yearned to know Thráin's fate.

Lily turned fully, her knees deliberately pressed into his thigh, and grinned at his unconscious acceptance of her touch. "May I see it?"

"See what?" He did enjoy being arduous.

"The _key_. Come on, let me see." The fact was, she had been an audaciously curious person her whole life. Childhood had not enhanced it; adulthood had not weakened it. At this point, Thorin knew better than to deny her.

He begrudgingly drew the large item from his garb and released it to her careful hands. "It's the only way inside."

She studied it closely between her fingers. "Impressive smith work. Remarkably light." She lifted her eyes to him. "And it opens a door into the mountain?"

"Yes." They stared relentlessly until he rolled his eyes and produced the map as well. "It's a secret entrance, but this will tell us its location."

She skimmed the text then shrugged. "What does it say?"

He plucked both from her clasp and hid them back in his wardrobe. "We'll find the door." They could not read it, and her smile hardened him. "We'll be ready."

"Right." She let her teeth out again then extended the book. "Give this a try. You'll like it."

He glanced at it then her. "You already told me the end."

"The conclusion is naught compared to the journey. Besides, I revealed what happened to the hero, but that's not the finale." She took his hand, expecting resistance, but he gave in without a fight, and she set the book upon it. "Trust me. Now if I may beg your pardon, there's a very anxious Hobbit in need of hope." She used his hard leg for a boost and crossed camp to her friend.

Bilbo stared silently at the burning embers until she touched his shoulder and gave him a fright. "Lily," he said with relief. "You startled me."

"Sorry."

"No no, it's my fault. Off in my own world."

She sat beside him and prodded the fire with her boot. "What troubles your mind, Mr. Baggins?"

He checked the others then leaned closer. "What if he's not coming back?"

"He will."

"But how do you know?"

"I am an excellent judge of character. Gandalf wouldn't abandon his friends over pigheadedness." He shook his head, unconvinced, but didn't speak. She put her arm around him and winked. "Neither would I. I'm yours till we are back in the Shire having a fresh cup of tea. You have my word."

This assured him, and he gave a small smile. "I'm glad you're here." So was she, more so now than her initial concern for the wellbeing of her favorite neighbor.

Her eyes flicked briefly to Thorin's near-invisible persona as he slept, then she jumped up. "That being said, don't fret when I vanish a while."

"W-What?" he fretted.

"Relax, I'll be back before you know it. I'll prove there's nothing to worry about once I return in a flash with the wizard. You'll see." She shouldered her bow then leaned down and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And um, do me a favor while I'm gone. Stay here, okay? Where everyone can see you." He looked confused, but she smiled and headed off with a finger over her lips.

* * *

><p>Gandalf was not surprised to see her while he puffed his pipe. She stopped beside him on the hillside and crossed her arms over her chest. She anticipated a longer track than he gave, and his thoughtful lean against the staff suggested several quiet moments observing the green dell below.<p>

"If I didn't know better," she started, "I'd think you were expecting me."

His throat chuckled, then he lowered his pipe and answered, "You mustn't mind Thorin. He's lived a difficult life, and stubbornness runs deep in that family." Hers too. "Rivendell is obviously the best route, but, tsk, Dwarves and Elves…" He winced and shrugged his eyebrows at her. "No offense."

Lily smirked and glanced back at him. That explained the vigilant observations. "How long have you known?"

He played innocent. "I've spent a great deal of time learning to pay attention." He probably knew the whole time. Nonetheless, it was nice for someone to notice. She wouldn't lie for secrecy, but discretion served her loyally over the years, and if anyone should know, it would be a shrewd old wizard.

"What now?"

"Hmph. Thorin will not listen to reason, so I will aim for a more unreasonable approach."

"Rivendell won't be happy for Dwarves' company," she advised, "but they will help if they can. Lord Elrond could read the map."

Gandalf's brow crinkled. "Thorin showed you the map?"

"Yes, but I can't read ancient Dwarvish. Elrond would find its secrets, I'm certain."

He paused then puffed another cheek-full of pipe-weed. "Well…I suppose an accomplice could be useful."

"Indeed it could." She grinned and motioned her head back. "Done counseling yourself then? Dear Bilbo's aflutter without his wizard."

"In that case, we'd best not delay a moment longer." They shared a laugh as they delved back through the dark hills.

They failed to do so in silence. This time, Gandalf had inquiries for her, mostly about the Mountains, and she answered whatever she knew. The idea of stepping inside once more troubled her, but they must cross to reach Erebor. She had known it all along, yet the reality had not settled in until just then.

He stopped suddenly, however, and she noticed the stillness as they neared camp. They approached with swords in hand, but none tended the fire. Everyone was gone.

"The supplies are still here," Lily noted and circled to the other side, "but their weapons are gone."

"No signs of a struggle," Gandalf added. Where would they go?

She followed the path through the trees down to the farmhouse and recoiled at a stench then narrowed her eyes. "Gandalf!" He appeared beside her, and she pointed at the line of saddles. "Where're the ponies? And what is that _smell_?" Her hand sheathed her sword then swept across her nose, but it made little difference.

"What I feared," he said lowly. "Trolls."

"Mercy." She squeezed her nostrils shut and turned from the empty thicket. What a stink! A faint flicker caught her eye, and she pulled his sleeve then motioned him over. They hurried quietly towards the light.

Unbelievable—trolls indeed! Three trolls, to be specific, and circled around a large spit of roasting Dwarves. That explained the smell and the camp, but there were no ponies in the corral, only feisty Dwarf sacks. Twelve of them and defeated by trolls. Their odds against a dragon drastically diminished; trolls were some of the world's dumber life forms.

"Wait!" the voice perked her ears. "You are making a _terrible_ mistake!" Gracious! Bilbo came hopping from the pile on the ground.

Lily raised up, but Gandalf gripped her shoulder and motioned her toward the corral. She nodded and drew her sword as he sprinted amongst the fading dark.

"I mean with the uh, with the seasoning," Bilbo continued, and the trolls turned.

The cook leaned down at Bilbo's level and spoke interestedly, "What about the seasoning?"

"Well have you smelt them? You're gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up." She snorted, not loud enough for any to hear.

"What do you know about cooking Dwarf?" another troll grumbled.

"Shut up," tossed the cook. "Let the flurgaburburhobbit talk." The-The what?

"Uh, the secret to cooking Dwarf is um…" Oh dear. He was trying to lie.

"Yes? Come on!"

"It's uh—"

"Tell us the secret!"

"Yes I'm _telling_ you—the secret is…" All ears opened. "…tooooo—skin them first!" For goodness sake. The Dwarves shouted and thrashed in angry protest, and Bilbo grew flustered but kept his ground.

"Tom," the cook beckoned, "get me filleting knife." Lily shook her head.

"What a load of rubbish!" grumped the impatient troll. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf em, I say, boots and all."

"He's right," Tom agreed and pulled poor Bombur up by the ankles. "Nothing wrong with a bit of raw Dwarf." He lifted their fat friend overhead for a juicy bite, and she gripped her sword. "Nice and crunchy." Where was that wizard?!

"Oh, not-not that one!" Bilbo shouted. "He-He's infected!" Everyone turned on him again. "Yeah he's got worms in his…tubes." Lily scrunched her nose, and Tom threw Bombur back with a yelp. "In fact, they all have! They're _infested_ with parasites, it's a terrible business! I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't." By the stars, only trolls would be stupid enough to believe such nonsense.

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" Óin grumbled, and Kíli yelped, "We don't have parasites, you have parasites!" She stood corrected. The others shouted in, too, and Lily pressed her fingers to her temple. Idiots, the whole lot.

Thorin gave Óin and Kíli a subtle but hard kick, and the two glanced up then corrected, "I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got _huge_ parasites!" And the rest followed suit. She only shook her head again.

"What would you have us do then?" Grumpy asked and stepped near Bilbo. "Let them all _go_?" No no no!

"Well…" Now she dropped her head; for the love of all that was sacred!

"You think I don't know what you're up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" Bilbo smarted.

Finally, a booming voice came overhead. "The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf appeared on the perch, raised his staff in both hands, and smote the boulder. It split perfectly in two, and sunlight blasted through the campsite.

The trolls became stone.

Everyone howled and cheered, and Lily stepped from the tree line with relief. A quick head tally, and all were accounted for. Her gaze stopped on Thorin, who actually smiled up at Gandalf, teeth and all. What a changed face behind such joy, and she suddenly wished it had been her handiwork. Then, for the first time, she wondered if it would be better to lie. He would never smile at her once he knew her secret.

"Lily, help Bilbo and the others," instructed Gandalf. "I'll deal with the kabobs."

She grinned, moved to Bilbo, and untied the sack. "Told you: always in the nick of time." He sighed amusedly and let himself out as she worked on the others. When she reached Thorin, she paused over him.

He stared expectantly then raised his eyebrows. "What're you waiting for?" A while at her mercy might do his ego some good, and she giggled at the possibility.

Lily kneeled beside him and brushed some hair off his shoulders. Her nails deliberately flicked his lobe, and she lowered her voice, "This is an unusual advantage I find myself in, Thorin Oakenshield."

It might have been fun, if not for the split second his eyes dipped for her lips, and a sudden thrill overwhelmed her. She blushed at the thought of his gaze, his feelings beneath the calm, and let herself touch the skin of his neck as she leaned forward to untie the knot in the back. His steady breath touched hot on her flesh, and her knee pressed his leg.

Then he was free. His hand pierced through the opening, forced the bag off, and pushed himself to his feet. She pulled the sack from beneath him and tossed it aside then brushed her palms on her pants. He offered her help up, and she accepted. Her hand all but disappeared in his, solid around hers for the first time, but he quickly released it and headed off to collect his garments. Simple trousers and a large tunic showed features of his build best left unseen by someone rapidly falling for him.

Dear. When had that happened?

Luckily, several needed help dressing, and Lily set about the task with excessive vigor. Bilbo's clothes were oddly damp and almost got the fire when he explained. It didn't stop her from hugging his face tightly against hers then slapping him hard on the back.

"Well done, Mr. Baggins. A useful delay, though not altogether bright. You really are a terrible liar—and that's a compliment." His chest puffed out, which made her chuckle.

Gandalf's low amusement drew her eye, but instead they found Thorin. He rolled them away gruffly, but Gandalf's twinkled. She returned the friendliness then helped Balin pack. What were they whispering about now?

"It appears there's no heart you can't thaw," Balin chuckled, and she lifted pleased but curious eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" He only chuckled more, and she grinned. "You dirty old Dwarf." This made them both laugh until Thorin summoned a few to track the trolls' cave.

The odor and buzzing flies made the hole easy to find, but Lily put a hand over her nose and mouth. It didn't help. Gaw, what a monstrous reek. The place was dark and curved around away from daylight, and assorted items littered the soggy earth.

"Aw what's that stench?" Nori noted with his own wave across the nose.

"It's a troll hoard," answered Gandalf, leading the group down into the smell. "Be careful what you touch."

The further they went, the more wretched the stink, and several coughed as it entered their lungs. Lily put a secure hand on Dwalin's shoulder, and he reached back and put an arm around her. Her head recovered from the dizzying stink and nodded gratefully.

"Seems such a shame just to leave it lyin around." Bofur stood over a spill of gold pieces, and other small chests were found nearby. "Anyone could take it."

"Agreed," piped up Glóin. "Nori, get a shovel."

She shook her head at their instincts. Caran always advised, 'Best not to touch if you don't know where it came from,' and it proved sound counsel thus far. Gandalf had moved toward the back, and she stepped ahead with a cautious look at Bofur.

Thorin found something of interest and pulled a large sword from a set overrun by webs and dust. He set the torch down and drew another, impressed. "These swords were not made by any troll." He handed the first over to Gandalf, and she peeped over Thorin's shoulder at the other.

"Nor were they made by any smith among men," added Gandalf and slowly lifted the blade from its scabbard. "These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves of the First Age."

Thorin meant to unsheathe his own discovery but nearly recoiled at the mention of Elves. Her chest pinched as he passed the wizard a disgusted glare then started to replace the weapon.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," Gandalf scolded. Thorin paused then gripped the hilt and pulled the blade back. It was a treasure, greater than any weapon she had seen. Elvish blades carried certain elegance, as much magic as steel, and their allure was difficult to replicate.

"May I?"

Thorin paused at her outstretched hands then extended it. "Don't cut yourself."

She smirked and took the find gently beneath her fingers. By the stars, it was something remarkable. Light as any artistry that crossed her path yet fierce in its splendor. Magnificent.

"Aye, she is handsome," Lily concurred then glanced up at him.

He quickly blinked elsewhere. Too quickly, in fact, and she smiled at his embarrassment. She spent enough time longing for his attention; it was only fair he return the favor.

"Keep her close," she said and handed it back. "She's too valuable to give up easily."

He took the sword and stepped away. "We shall see. Let's get out of this foul place. Come on, let's go! Bofur, Glóin, Nori!" The three Dwarves finished burying their chests of gold then hurried out after Dwalin and Thorin, Lily taking the back as Gandalf wandered a moment longer.

The others already packed camp and waited outside as they resurfaced. The fresh air filled her lungs with pleasure, and Balin threw a saddle on Bilbo's rediscovered pony. She helped him fix the straps and reins then tied her weapon across the side. They may not mind hauling swords and axes everywhere, but it weighed her down.

"Bilbo," Gandalf called as he rejoined them. "Here. This is about your size."

Lily stopped abruptly and watched Bilbo gingerly take the small sword. Its burden weighed heavy on him, and he hesitated several quiet seconds until offering it back to the wizard.

"I can't take this."

"The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby."

"I have never used a sword in my life."

"And I hope you never have to." That made three of them. "But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one." She remembered the buck and suddenly wondered if her own inaction was an acuter sense than morality.

"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted, and everyone rallied to face the danger.

"Stay together! Hurry now, arm yourselves!"

Lily remained while Bilbo slowly drew the blade and gazed upon its brilliance for the first time. Dear, dear Bilbo. He seemed lost in its unspoken power. Weeks past, the image of him wielding a blade of any sort was hazy at best.

"Bilbo!" she summoned, and he blinked then joined her behind the Dwarves.

_TA 2908_

Lily crouched in the small passage far above the abyss angered by the light of her small torch. She had shoved it in a crevice so both hands were free to doodle down the latest notes on her map that now spread across four rolls of parchment. It didn't stay there long and took a tumble down a shaft, and she didn't manage to catch it before the shoot opened into a cavern. At least 150 meters down, maybe more; she wasn't the best judge of such things. But she would never find her way back out without fire.

Tall shadows distinguished massive pillars stretching floor to ceiling, and her groping hands found one to latch onto and slide down. Her feet barely disturbed the smooth surface yet the echo followed the chasm walls beyond sight. Otherwise, all was still, and she picked up the whooshing torch.

Not a cavern: a great hall, like none she ever witnessed. The line of columns continued endlessly through the dark in each direction even as her small glow burned massive in their wake. What incredible craftsmanship. That anyone could build such wonder was beyond imagining.

Caran showed her this room before in one of his books. Dwarrowdelf, an ancient realm and city amidst the Dwarf kingdom of Moria. If there was any bravery in her, she might delve further for its forgotten secrets. Caran might learn something from her for once!

But she kept stagnant. Dwarrowdelf lay deep in the heart of the mountain, deeper than she meant to go and was suddenly frightened of its silence. Death haunted these shadows, rooted in the mysterious walls and kept strong amongst the murky despair of what once was. And her tiny light disturbed that darkness.

Get out. She needed to leave, but her eyes lingered on the memory concealed inside such a grand tomb. Would the world ever see the like again?

Go now! The thought snapped her back to the peril within, and she spun around on the route back: up the column, along the shaft, down passages, through cracks, she hastened at full speed—all the while certain something pursued her. She couldn't stop for food or rest and, even after the exhaustion at breaching the surface, only slowed when she reached the foot of the mountains. The terror vanished in the warmth of the valley, and her aching feet gave way abruptly and pitched her down the rocky, grassy knoll until striking her head on something hard.

Keep going! Escape! Run!

But the blackness overpowered her.

* * *

><p>Radagast brought that presence with him. How, why, she could not say. He and Gandalf removed themselves for a private chat her ears were not privy to. She hadn't experienced such feeling for some time and loathed its familiarity against her spine. Wizards protected life to the utmost; it was their sole purpose. Why would Radagast bring evil on his cloak?<p>

"Are you all right?"

Lily blinked from the whispering wizards to the Hobbit by her elbow. "What? Oh fine, dandy, just curious."

They both glanced at the duo then he stepped closer, their elbows pressing. "What if I can't…do…what they need me to do? What if I'm not…"

"Brave?" She smiled and put her arm through his then gently squeezed. "You walked out the front door. That's braver than most."

He smirked and squeezed, too. "And you came after me."

"I've been on adventures before."

"But you stepped out once, left your home behind, and you did it alone. I'd say that makes you bravest of all."

Hmph. No, she was not brave. Not now—not then.

_TA 2908_

She woke in the warmth of her bed while fresh lily-of-the-valley wafted across her face. Even without opening her eyes, her nose was all too acquainted with the gentle fragrance. There should be roses, but the aroma eluded her. How did she get here?

Lily sat up and noticed the small vase of dead roses first. That explained that. The brown petals were even more pitiful in the afternoon sun.

"Sleep well?" Caran surprised her as he crossed the doorway. Stern disapproval covered his face.

"Not really." Probably a rhetorical question anyway.

"And did you enjoy your escapade?" He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands behind his back, and stared at her.

"I know that stance," she teased. "I'm about to get a lecture."

"Do you have any idea how serious this is? You've been gone for weeks, no one knew where you were, and I find you unconscious in the mountains alone at night. Terrible things could have befallen you; terrible things _would_ have if I hadn't found you first."

Weeks? It felt like days. Time passed differently in the caves, but this was not her first indiscretion. Once, she took a boat and remained at sea for eight days before returning, and her father gave her an earful. Just the same, she was old enough to make her own choices, and it was not their entitlement to order her around.

"Honestly, Caran, you exaggerate." She pushed the sheets down and swung out of bed. "Where's Father? Let's get this over with."

"He isn't speaking with you."

She scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"He won't see you."

"That's ridiculous—"

"'_Ridiculous'_?" His dark brow creased in an anger she never thought him capable of. "You could have died!"

"But I didn't, I'm fine!"

"You're selfish!" He had never spoken harsh words against her, and she flinched at their fervor. "You give no thought of others affected by your actions because you've never suffered harsh repercussions! You have no idea what loss is!"

"My mother left me when I was a baby!" Her own anger bolstered her voice, but tears threatened her more. "I know plenty of loss!"

"You know _nothing_. Loss is desperation beyond any you ever imagine, it is anguish in every breath you take and each moment you're in its grasp. You don't even remember your mother. The loss you feel is uncertainty, Lily; it's not _pain_, and without pain it's not real."

She couldn't bear his wrath, not when she possessed so little experience with it, and marched for the door. "I won't listen to this a moment longer."

"_You will listen_!" The sheer fury paralyzed her, and she regretted facing him. "Life is not a game, and the world is not some playground for you to wander about wherever you wish! Grandeur, _genuine grandeur_, is made on the back of adversity, where every action bears a steep consequence! You've been inside that mountain, and if you learn nothing else from its empty halls let it be this: actions live on. All else is dust. So for _once_ in your life, take responsibility before you lose the only thing sacred in this world!"

He stormed out in a furious sweep, and she fought a choke until his steps faded off. Her hands steepled over her nose, but biting her lip didn't control the tears either. There was no stopping them.

Her father would not see her; Caran would not speak with her. No one came for days, done worrying for her wellbeing. For the first time, her heart led her astray. It wounded her family, her friend. The shame exhausted her more than the endless cries.

And on the twelfth day, she vanished.

* * *

><p>She fled that day the same way she hid when her father disapproved of her behavior. She had not meant to wander so far, to disappear for so long. Her mind needed clearing, and the mountains' reminder covered her in ignominy. On and on, she wanted out of its reach. Until one afternoon, it was gone.<p>

No. There was nothing brave about her. Thirty years brought her across the Misty eyes here or there, but her path kept clear of its will. This was the closest she had come. There was no fear or anxiety, though her heart quickened at the memory. Would they reject her?

A howl carried through the forest, and Lily lifted her head. She knew that sound, all too well, and stood.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked nervously. "Are there-are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" said Bofur as he watched the hilly tree line. "No that is not a wolf."

A heavy growl spun them backward, and a giant, snarling beast leapt from the perch into the midst of their circle. Nori dodged its sharp teeth while Thorin hacked one mighty chop straight into its thick neck. Another hound approached over Thorin's shoulder, and Kíli brought it down with a precise shot to the skull before Dwalin bashed its head in a solid stroke.

Thorin wrestled his sword from the creature's meaty carcass. "Warg scouts! Which means an orc pack is not far behind!"

"'Orc pack'?" Bilbo repeated.

"Who did you tell about your quest?" demanded Gandalf of Thorin. "Beyond your kin?"

"No one."

"Who did you tell?!"

"No one, I swear!" He closed ranks on the old wizard and lowered his voice. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted."

Lily snapped her gaze on Thorin, who shared her reaction. Who would want him dead? How could they know of his intentions? When did orcs make allegiances with anyone but themselves? Why had he looked to her?

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin said.

"We can't!" Ori came hurrying over the forestry to meet them. "We have no ponies! They bolted!" So much for her sword. Warg snarls and howls grew louder through the trees, and Bilbo paced away. She grabbed the hem of his jacket and pulled him beside her.

"I'll draw them off," volunteered Radagast.

"These are Gundabad Wargs," Gandalf argued. "They will outrun you."

"_These_ are Rhosgobel Rabbits! I'd like to see them try."

The grey wizard didn't rebuttal, and everyone darted through the trees for the outlying hillside. Radagast stayed back with his sled of antsy feet. She hoped he was right about them.

The Wargs were nearly upon them now, their howls and padded paws louder in the shrinking distance as the Company neared the forest's edge further north until Gandalf held out his hand. They stopped and waited. The orcs must have found the brown wizard by now.

"COME ON! COME AND GET ME! HA-HAH!"

Gandalf broke across the dell leading the Company through the dry grass and maze of stones. Radagast and Wargs were audible above every step as the orcs pursued him in vehemence. Lily brought up the rear of their line and kept her bow ready as they pressed on. It wouldn't do to leave them all in her wake.

They stopped abruptly behind a rock face and remained quiet. A Warg must have caught the scent and stood above sniffing the air. Thorin signaled his nephew, and Kíli pushed away and plucked his bow. The beast fumbled at their feet, and the Dwarves moved in to dispatch the enemy.

The racket overwhelmed her, and she slapped Dwalin's arm. He turned to her, but the damage was done. Warg howls filled the hills, and Gandalf led the escape. "Move! Run!"

They took flight once more, but Glóin pointed at figures in the distance. "There they are!"

"This way, quickly!"

It was too late. The Dwarves were not fast enough, and enemies surrounded them on all sides. "There're more coming!" Kíli shouted as they took the flank.

"Kíli! Shoot them!"

"We're surrounded!"

"Where's Gandalf?!"

"He's abandoned us!"

"Hold your ground!" Thorin drew the Elf blade, and the mighty sword gleamed perilously in his hands.

Lily grabbed Bilbo's coat and pulled him close. "Mind your head." These orcs would not leave this place, one way or the other. They entered Elf country.

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf reappeared from the rocks behind them long enough to flag their attention then vanished again.

Thorin reached the hidden entrance first but stood watch as the others jumped in. "Quickly! All of you!" Lily shoved Bilbo across the threshold and stood opposite Thorin as everyone dove. "Seven, eight, nine, ten—"

"Kíli! Run!"

Kíli relinquished his post and bolted toward them. A Warg and rider snapped at his steps, and Lily pulled her bow string across her cheek. The first struck the hound between the eyes and almost disappeared beneath its thick hide. The orc flew forward as the beast plowed into the dirt, but a second shaft caught him through the neck. Fíli and Kíli leapt down, and Thorin grabbed her arm and pulled her with him into the access.

No sooner they reached the bottom, horns sounded above, echoed by hooves, wails, and the onslaught of battle. One orc took a tumble down the shoot, and they scattered until he hit the ground. Dead.

Thorin yanked the offending arrow from the creature's chest and observed its point. "Elves." He cast it aside like it burned him.

Meanwhile, the noise above faded.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads!" Dwalin stood a few meters down where the opening turned and weaved through the stream of light overhead. "Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur eagerly led the way.

"I think that would be wise," seconded Gandalf.

Lily discarded his meaning and rubbed Bilbo's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm-I'm fine." Shaken but none the worse for wear. "You?"

She grinned and led him forward. "We'll soon find out, Mr. Baggins."

"There's light ahead," Dwalin called back, and the path burst open to a gentle waterfall that flowed beyond into the rivers and brooks of a city nestled amidst the valley. The sound of its constant streaming cascade flooded her head with sounds and smells and faces and memories, and a deep sigh brought a smile to her face.

"The Valley of Imladris," declared Gandalf as they all gazed in wonderment. "In the common tongue, it is known by another name."

Bilbo's voice came softly: "Rivendell." In all her travels, she never found its equal.

"Here lies the Last of the Homely House East of the Sea."

The Dwarves' admiration ceased abruptly, replaced by confusion and disapproval. Thorin turned on the wizard bearing a heavy scorn. "This was your plan all along, to seek _refuge_ with our enemy." Enemy. It brought her out of fairie lands to a world dark and harsh. She lowered her gaze and stepped back from them, suddenly isolated.

"You have no enemies _here_, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf replied with a stern look. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself." His words relieved her, and she lifted her head. Balin nodded, but no one else noticed.

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" Thorin argued. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered." Thorin didn't approve but hung his head. Gandalf was right. "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm—which is why _you_ will leave the talking to _me_."

Bilbo kept to the wizard as they collected the Dwarves and started their descent. Lily watched Thorin's internal struggle as the others drew further away. Her feelings were not eager to let him go, but she found a voice.

"You'd best hurry, or they'll conspire without you." It even managed to sound sincere. He glanced at her, and she produced a sympathetic smile. It hurt to know the reason for his indecision, but she understood it well enough. Her life was not without enemies.

He faced her and spoke heedlessly, as they were now alone. "You made an exceptional shot back there. Well done." His appreciation for his nephews gleamed off his steely blue eyes. It was the best compliment she would receive and should have made her grateful.

But she only nodded politely, and he marched after his Company then up at Gandalf's flank. She kept behind the rest. Many gentlefolk crossed her way in travels, most pleasant enough, but she grew fond of her Dwarves over their time together. Goodness, had it really been so long? No wonder the orcs grew restless. They were not a bright or patient race, and the miles and weeks of travel probably weaned their enthusiasm.

They crossed the bridge into the courtyard, and some appreciation returned to the assembly. Bilbo, in particular, gawked at its splendor. He was a young boy filled with blissful wonder at the discovery he only dreamed until that moment. The city completely enchanted him; that was its power.

She leaned against his shoulder with a grin. "Breathtaking, isn't it?"

His smile broadened. "Yes it is."

_TA 2894_

She couldn't recall her face or the feel of their hands entwined, not when the stranger before them caught her full attention. Tall and sharp, more serious than other fathers and focused on Anaranë's words.

"Please, watch her. It's only for a time, until I find Gorlas."

"What if you can't? Will you leave her without a mother?"

"I _must_ do this. I cannot continue a life without him."

"And a missing man is more important than your daughter?"

"Don't ask me to be rational. Please, just promise me."

He paused then shifted his gaze down to Lily. They stared relentlessly until a subtle twinkle made her giggle and flutter her lashes at him. The corner of his mouth tweaked then vanished as he regarded Anaranë. "She will always have a home here."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Some tall tale from her mother, no doubt, and the four-year-old believed each sound. Her next memory was his warm, gentle hand leading her through the flowers as his deep tone filled the air with her laughter. He taught her a garden's secrets, how to read languages, the stars' names, and every detail that captivated an untainted mind.

Nothing had changed.

* * *

><p>"Mithrandir."<p>

"Ah!" Gandalf beamed at the Elf descending the stairs to the courtyard, and Lily's chest fluttered at the face. "Lindir!" The Dwarves' interest in architectural beauty vanished once more, and they leaned closer to one another as the wizard approached the host.

"We heard you had crossed into the valley," Lindir said in Elvish.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," replied Gandalf in the common tongue.

"My Lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here? Where is he?"

Familiar horns blasted over the city's peace, and they all turned as a league of riders galloped across the bridge toward them. She had seen it many times and recognized the hunting party. Her father refused to let her join, but that kept her naught from watching the comings and goings of every excursion.

Thorin's voice shouted a command at the group, and Lily blanched as Óin grabbed her elbow and threw her in the midst of them along with Bilbo. The others closed ranks, weapons high, and the riders surrounded them in circles. One Dwarf caught his elbow on her side, and Bilbo's shoulder tried merging with hers. These nitwits!

"Gandalf!" Lily's blood ceased pumping but a moment, and she found Lord Elrond clad in full armor astride a regal black steed. His voice and face were merry as he greeted the wizard.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf replied in equal spirits and gave a bow. "My friend," he spoke in Elvish. "Where have you been?"

"We've been hunting a pack of orcs that came up from the South." He dismounted and ignored the antsy Dwarves as he stood with his companion. "We slew a number near the Hidden Pass." They embraced, then he raised a brutish blade and spoke in a language they all understood. "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone has drawn them near."

"Ah, that may have been us."

Now, both elders inspected the group before them, and the Dwarves lowered their weapons. Elrond had that way of instilling calm in even the fiercest beings. Thorin stepped forward, and Elrond met him.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thráin."

"I do not believe we have met." He didn't like an Elf knowing him before introductions were made.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed?" The mention of his ancestor reduced any civility he might have briefly entertained. "He made no mention of you." She didn't care for his tone—not with the Lord of Rivendell.

Elrond's eyes drifted across the Company and stopped on her as if he had seen her all along. His dark gaze unsteadied her. More than once he used it against her as a child to coerce the truth from her tightly sealed mouth, but now it softened to something far greater than etiquette.

Love.

He extended his hand, and that kindhearted smile made the world cease. "Fëa." Only he called her that, and its sound on his lips brought her through the confused Dwarves without hesitation and put her hand in his. Such warmth and gentility. "Another voyage concluded?"

She blushed, determined not to cry, but smiled unabashedly at his silent pleasure. "It's good to be home, Father." He squeezed her softly then turned to the Company and spoke in Elvish. She chose to admire the walls.

"What is he sayin?" Glóin barked at the foreign speech. "Does he offer us insult?!"

"No, Master Glóin," said Gandalf before the Dwarves could stir themselves up. "He's offering you food."

The Dwarves gathered for a quick collaboration, and Elrond glanced sideways at her. She rubbed her nose to hide the irrepressible smirk, but her amused eyes matched his. The group made its decision.

"Ah well," Glóin continued, "in that case, lead on."

Elrond faced her again and motioned toward the steps. "Fëa, would you show our guests to supper?"

"Of course, Father." She ignored the grumbling at her back and joined Lindir up the path. The truth was out for all to know, and they had questions and choice words, but filling their empty bellies was her task at present. "They eat like you wouldn't believe," she spoke in Elvish. "I hope you've stocked up on everything."

"We feed an entire city, Lily," he answered amusedly. "I don't think thirteen Dwarves shall be a problem."

"I doubt their appetites will be sated by the likes of your usual diet," she rebutted. They ate poor Bilbo's pantry bare, after all.

"Nor was yours," came a third voice.

Lily stopped at the top of the stairs and snapped her head toward the intruder. What a welcome interference it was! He stood at the foot of an upward passage, hands behind him as usual, and met her gaze with a crooked smile that outmatched any charm a gentleman could attempt. And it brought about the largest grin she produced in years.

"Caranthir!" His name brought his teeth into full view, and she sprinted over then threw her arms around him. "Oh I've missed you!" He hugged her tight as well, lifting her off her feet a moment, and it made her even gladder. No more fighting.

Lily pulled back and addressed the group, "Lindir, would you mind taking them?"

"Of course not, my lady."

She didn't want to answer their questions just yet anyway, but being with her friend once more was vastly more important. "Come!" She took Caranthir's hand and dragged him excitedly back up the steps.

Home at last.


	5. Chapter 4

_**An Unexpected Journey**_

_By Avalon Shiranui_

**Chapter Four**

The intoxication filled her lungs sweeter than pure air. A dozen large vases flooded over with bouquets of exquisite roses in every color, and a brush of lily-of-the-valley against the window brought wonderful memories on its scent. Her room remained exactly as she left it, sheets and all, save the small garden someone began. Caranthir boasted a green thumb; he was the number one suspect. Ah, to be home! She dove into the soft bed and snuggled the fluffy pillows, hung out the window that overlooked the great mountains, combed her hair with her mother's shell brush, and tried on all her shoes. She was an adolescent again, as giddy and carefree as ever.

She stripped the leather garments off and tried several old outfits before sliding into a carnation pink dress, stepping inside sky blue slippers and tying a matching ribbon around her ponytail. Why had she left so many things she loved behind? Oh it didn't matter!

Caranthir waited outside and smiled when she reemerged. "Still beautiful."

"Still amiable." He knew how to flatter, that had not changed. Lily looped their arms together and let him lead her through the city.

Life in Rivendell was much the same as thirty years ago, despite how he made every small facet significant and grandiose. Caranthir was a listener more than a conversationalist but talked now like the privilege was denied him since her absence. He missed her. The greater years made her no less his closest friend, as he was hers. She was glad for the chatter so she could enjoy the sound of his quirkiness and re-familiarize herself with his details. Apart from her father, no one cared for her more.

"Your turn," he said as they crossed their favorite garden and he helped her onto the balcony banister. "How did you come into the companionship of Dwarves?"

She grinned at the thought. "Over dinner." Thinking of her blockheads made her silly.

"An Elf's life is such that small alterations often go unnoticed." Caranthir turned only 243 a few months past but understood time far better than someone with just 51 behind them. "Yet I am surprised by all the change I see in you."

This ought to be good. "How so?"

He shrugged and pretended to think for several dramatic seconds. "You've started wearing your hair up." Travel included less agreeable conditions, and she became hot easily. When had it turned to habit? "Your complexion is darker." Lots of sunshine in Hobbiton. "That's new." He dabbed below her left collar bone where a faded scar kept watch.

"Gosh, I'd almost forgotten about it." How long ago was that?

"And this place doesn't bring you the ease it once did."

Lily spied him through her lashes and shifted at the sinking feeling across her chest. "Don't be daft! I'm ecstatic to be home."

"Happy, yes, but I sense a fever. I've seen it in you before." The hunger for exploration.

"I'm done with wandering, Caran. I'm home and ready to settle in for a while."

He ended the conversation with a mouth shrug. "Lord Elrond will be glad. He missed you terribly."

Her father brought a great smile, and her thoughts knew the Lord of Rivendell's mind. "He's eager to see me settled. He's worried my childishness will mislead me."

"Childlike, certainly, but never childish." Elrond would not agree; fathers had difficulty seeing their daughters as women. "Would being married to me really be so terrible?"

No. The suggestion surprised her when Elrond first mentioned it—really, married to Caranthir! But he was her best friend, and she cared for him beyond measure. The longer she thought on it, the more she knew their union would be a content one.

"I could do worse," she teased with a shrug. Her heart wasn't ready, despite what her head knew. Not when another's look brought her such satisfaction.

He smiled anyway and put his hand over hers, locking their gaze. This was her friend she grew up with and knew so well, doted over, a fellow who understood her soul as well as her mind. Why did she ever hesitate? No one in all Middle Earth was better suited for her. Why did her heart long for another that would never have her, another she had barely scratched the surface of knowing? Youth, it must be. Nothing else explained such lunacy.

"A few decades are a breath, Lily," he said low and gentle. "I don't mind giving you the freedom to choose carefully. Husband and wife are for life. Listen to your heart, and it will show you the way."

Caranthir's affection for her was not in question—he didn't have it in him to be anything less than genuine—and Elrond's intentions were in the right place. But affection wasn't the same as love. There must be a spark, or their vows were a venture, not a pact. It wasn't right of her father to ask that sort of sacrifice from anyone.

"You're too good to me, Caran." Lily squeezed his hand, and they shared a good chuckle.

"Caranthir." They looked to the Elf across the pathway who stood beneath an arch. "Lord Elrond wishes to speak with you."

Caranthir winked at her then headed off. "I'm on my way."

_TA 2907_

"I'm on my way." Caranthir winked at her and left the library. Someone was in need of his expertise, and with such a long list to choose from, it was pointless to conjecture which skill.

Lily grinned at his exit, reached across the table, and flipped to their current chapter. Exploration waited for no one! He knew the end anyway, as he knew the end of every book in the room. They both cherished a good read.

"As cheerful as ever." She smiled when her father appeared around a corner and took the empty seat. "You make quite the pair."

"Every heroine needs her sidekick." They laughed, and she propped the book open. "Father Bear seeks me out only when he needs something. Did I instigate further mischief?"

"Would you have it any other way?"

"Not willingly." She flipped the page.

"What if you were married?"

She snorted. "To who? I've got plenty of time for romance when I'm old." There were too many journeys waiting to let herself be buckled down by butterflies.

"What about Caranthir?"

"Eh, Caran should probably think about it. He's the domestic type, you know."

"Do you think he would make a good husband?"

"The best, but it would depend on the lady. Life is a dance, after all." She would have to be quite dreadful to make Caranthir unpleasant.

"You're a spirited dancer."

"Who doesn't love dancing?"

"Fëa." He rested his hand over hers, and she blinked up at him. She had not thought the conversation significant, but the intensity of his familiar gaze put her at attention. "I'm asking you to consider Caranthir for a husband."

C-Caran? A husband? Married? _Her_? No. No!

Lily flinched and pulled away. "_What_?"

"You already have a strong connection, and he will make you happy."

"He makes me happy now, as my friend."

"I'm only asking you to think about it." Force was not his intention, judging by the apologetic tint in his eyes, but this conversation was not fickle. His forward thoughts were crucial, at least from his perspective.

"No need," she spoke firmly, stood, and met his surety. "I'm not marrying anyone. Caran is my friend, Father. Don't take that away from me." The thought of hurting her wounded him, and he lowered his gaze. She hurried off before more words were uttered.

* * *

><p>She had been so scared of losing her chance at freedom before she had even had the opportunity to find it. Caranthir was not just her best friend then but her only friend, and Elrond's proposition put both at risk. Now she longed for another, another she couldn't have.<p>

Lily slid off the rail and crossed the flowers to the stairs. Supper might do her good. Distraction from old thoughts was welcome, and Idril welcomed any help he could wrangle. If she were lucky, she could season up a full meal.

She paused at the top of the steps, and her hand subconsciously clenched. "Thorin?" He stopped on the last step, and she quickly descended upon him. Calm down, pulse! "Are you lost?"

His gaze avoided her, and he spoke frankly, "I sought time alone." They might as well have been strangers.

"You've come to the right place." She tried for friendliness, as was custom amongst most that crossed her path, yet the pounding in her chest kept on. "Caran and I are the only ones that use this place, but you're welcome to it." He nodded. Worse than strangers; at least then he could not keep his eyes from her.

She needed to focus before her sentiments got the best of her. "You spoke with Lord Elrond, I hope? What did he say? Was he able to read the map?"

"It's not your business."

At least he answered, but the gruffness made her frown. "Then you haven't asked him? He has vast experience and a way of uncovering secrets. You do yourself a disservice excluding him from your intentions."

"When I desire your counsel, I will ask for it," he clipped and raised his gaze. "We'll manage, just as we will without you playing nursemaid."

Her eyes narrowed, and any benevolence vanished. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

He was familiar with her tone and met it head on. "You coddle the Hobbit as if he were your child, and the others tend you like some damsel. Dwalin was right to label you nothing more than a distraction, and had you been forthcoming from the start—"

"I didn't lie!"

"Honesty is what goes unsaid as much as what does, and once you've deceived, all your truths become questionable! Had I known before, I would never have agreed to this!"

"Yes you would," she scoffed back. "Because lecture all you want, Dwarf, but it won't change how you're drawn to me."

"Don't be ridiculous," he guffawed and turned up the stairs. _Ridiculous_? Ridiculous!

"Just as I'm drawn to you!" It rolled off her tongue unbidden, but he stopped short. Two could dish out unwelcome truths. "The only _difference_ any of this has made is now you're ashamed of it." Ashamed of her.

No one had ever showed contempt for her, not even foes. She played no part in the actions committed lifetimes ago! They didn't need to be enemies; they weren't! Why couldn't he understand that?

His stoic silence wounded her further, and she swallowed the lump. She would not be undone. "Get some rest. You've a long journey ahead." She left quickly, before anything else slipped her tongue.

* * *

><p>Lily dispelled anger as a child by diving into a tragic book or running off where no one would find her for days. Sometimes Caranthir headed her off and talked the tension straight out of her, but he was presently wrapped up in helping the city cater their guests. Left to her own devices, only one tactic sounded remotely appealing: aggression.<p>

Gah, she could punch that Dwarf right in the throat! Why did he have to be such a pigheaded…Dwarf! Did she let some dragon pillage his home then send his people to wander to the other side of the map? Nooooo. Was she there when his family was killed at Moria? Nooooo. Had she driven Thráin off his nutter? Nooooo. Where was she when he and Gandalf hatched their great (poorly constructed) plan? In a bloody Hobbit hole! Why was she suddenly the villain? Because of a few tall, pointy-eared relatives? Muttonhead!

Lily jammed her dagger into the dummy's nonexistent face then stood back with a great huff. Beating him up was quite therapeutic, and anxiety seeped through her sweating pores. But beneath it surfaced the pain of rejection. How did one get rid of that?

"I think someone could use a good listener." Elrond crossed the courtyard and eyed the dummy. "Accompanied by wine, perhaps."

She smiled some and yanked the blade free. "I'm fine."

"I meant for me," he teased. "Your companions are difficult guests to company. Have you been to the kitchens recently?"

"I've been busy."

"Hiding, yes I know." She glared at him, but he smirked. "I'm aware that Caranthir is usually the ear you confide in, but let me offer a trade: your troubles, for insight on your cohorts' map."

Lily studied him quietly, but her father was unreadable. He plotted something, albeit with the best intentions. "You first."

He returned the silent inquiry then nodded. "The door will be revealed in the last light of Durin's Day."

"Durin's Day?"

"The Dwarvish New Year, marking the end of autumn."

Winter would be upon them soon. "If they're not in the right place when the sun sets?"

"Then their opportunity has passed." And another year would elapse while the efforts were for naught. Would their spirits survive defeat? Bilbo would not need to risk his life, and the others would return to their families in the Blue Mountains.

But Thorin, tsk, that nincompoop. He would be broken.

"Your turn." He offered her a washcloth and sat on a bench. "What's on your mind?"

Lily blotted her face and joined him. "I don't know what to do anymore, Papa. My place in this was to keep an eye on Bilbo, to keep him safe, but now…" They all meant too much to her, even sour-faced Glóin. "It's become complicated."

"You care for them."

She shrugged, but her sad gaze showed the truth. "I worry what will happen. They're Dwarves, and I'm something they hate. Why would they ever trust me?" How could they? "I fear my part in this journey is done." And it hurt to realize.

"By 'they,' do you mean 'he'?"

Lily blushed and ducked her head. 'He' wounded deepest, indeed.

"I think it might behoove you to seek out your friends. You do owe them an explanation, after all." His finger lifted her chin, and she melted under that paternal tenderness. "You may discover your own answers, as well."

Our lives are defined by the challenges we face; our failures are defined by the refusal to show up. Wasted advice for a child, some might say, yet his words laid the foundation for most of the obstacles she faced across the years. Even now.

She sighed dramatically and jumped up. "All right already, I get the message." She leaned down suddenly and planted a big kiss on his cheek, flipping his surprise upward. "And Caran's not the only one I rely on." They smiled, and he nodded.

Lily washed up then circulated the city in search of the visitors. Bilbo proved easiest to track down, despite wandering solo, and was as happy to see her as ask endless questions about Rivendell. She should not have neglected him, but his chatter lifted her optimism and washed out all the isolation of each other's absence. Dear, dear Bilbo.

He was not especially helpful in tracking down the others, however, and she suspected he felt a certain exile amidst the new developments, as well. He accepted a big kiss, then she continued the hunt.

Hours passed faster than normal when engaged with her Hobbit. It was already well into sunset by the time she turned a corner, reeled back, and squeezed her eyes shut. "Ahh! Pants! Now! _Where_ are your pants?!"

"You can't just sneak up on a fella like that!" Fíli fumbled around, and she turned her head away.

"Why're you not wearing pants?!"

"We were havin a bath, cleaning the necessaries and all!" He fell with a loud, "Umph!"

"What are you talking about, there's no—" The sound of a running fountain registered over the conversation, and she rolled her eyes then scoffed, "Oh my word."

"It was the perfect size," he added and wound up against her elbow, trousers fastened. "The water quality's quite good here."

She raised an eyebrow at his innocent grin and shook her head with a smirk. "I'm glad it meets your standards."

"Where've you been, anyway? We've been asking around, but you hide pretty well even from Elves, it seems."

"Hm," she shrugged, "everyone has their talents."

"S'pose. Come on, then, the gents are all dying to see ya." He took her hand and led the way, and she let him pull her through the courtyard and up steps to the space sectioned off for the guests.

The sun had sunk beneath the horizon now, and a small fire warmed the cubby and dried their hung clothes as they roasted meat and laid out bedding for the night. Without the walls and ceiling, they could have been back in the forest.

"Look who I found, lads!" Fíli called and put his arm around her as they approached the light.

Hollers and cheers erupted amongst the congregation, and hands eagerly yanked her down by the fire while others patted her shoulders and squeezed her hands. They swarmed to their positions nearby, and the elbows and knees pressed close made her warm. Even Dwalin, who was already laid out on her right, kicked Dori away when he tried to slip between them. The rascals knew how to put a smile on her face!

"Pillaged another kitchen, I see," Lily nodded toward the collection of sausages.

They laughed and growled at the achievement, then Óin shouted from across the flames. "Where've you been, lass?"

"We thought something might have happened to you," Nori added. Bifur jabbered off something, and the others nodded.

"Why didn't you tell us before you're an Elf?" threw in Kíli, and she wondered why the conversation didn't unsettle her.

"Do you think less of me for it?" she teased, and they quickly shouted denials jumbled together into gibberish. "I'm only half Elf," she answered with a smirk. "My father was of men."

"Ahh," said Bofur. "That's why your ears aren't pointy."

"I suppose."

"But shouldn't you be taller?" Fíli asked. "Was your father a wee man?"

"I couldn't tell you. We never met." Everyone paused, but the silence didn't last.

"What about your mother?" suggested Kíli. "What does she say?"

Lily shrugged and leaned back on her hands. "She left when I was a youngling, but Lord Elrond says I better resemble her. I never thought to ask if they were short…" Her height earned her some points growing up, as both crafty and puny, but she had not considered herself unusual. Kids would be kids, and nothing stood in her way thus far.

"You never knew either of your parents?" Ori spoke softly, and she smiled.

"Lord Elrond made me his family, and I had a happy childhood. My parents' absence gave me a rare opportunity." Who knew? If they stayed, her life might have been quite different. Growing up without Elrond or Caranthir looking after her was unimaginable.

"But you left." Dwalin's gruff tone, perpetually the pessimist, didn't match the curiosity of his gaze.

"I was young and wanted to see the world." Plain and simple.

"More like escape these fair lads," Nori guffawed, disrupting the serious mood. "Who is that 'Caranthir' fellow anyway?"

She really shouldn't say, but the temptation was too great. "Caran is my betrothed." Sure enough, the camp exploded with shouts and arguments and hollers and protests raining from all sides, and she slapped her hands over her ears at first then laughed and shouted over them, "He's also a very dear friend!" They simmered down some, and she eyed them slyly. "So watch the comments."

"You're really gonna marry that priss?" Kíli grunted.

"Maybe. It was arranged by Lord Elrond, but Caran wants the decision to come from me. I haven't made up my mind just yet."

Dori suddenly burst through the brigands and clutched her hand in his. "You can do better; I'd make you much happier!"

He was met with a sausage upside his forehead, and Glóin barked, "Keep dreamin, laddie!" The others banded together to shove him back, and she passed Glóin a subtle smile. Even he, her biggest opponent, might forgive and forget.

"All right, my darlings, I must be off." She shushed their pleas and stood. "The night is long: eat hearty, drink full, and sleep well. The days ahead will not be so restful." They reluctantly bid her goodnight and clung to her up until she entered the hallway.

Then she knocked headlong into someone, and she blinked up at him with an "Op!"

His hands were around her arms, and he looked as overwhelmed to see her as she was him. Seconds passed, but she could not find words. Those eyes had such untold power; it was unfair what little she had over him.

Thorin slowly lifted his hands and circled around her without a word. His footfalls carried down the hallway, but he didn't glance back. She knew, because she watched every step. Was he still angry with her? Or were they strangers now, and cordial was all he could muster?

The ninny. How could he not see?

* * *

><p>She went to sleep wanting to be angry with him and think only of the Dwarves who overlooked her disagreeable bits for the ones they preferred. She tossed and fidgeted, punched her pillow and kicked the sheets, grumbled and huffed, but when rest finally came, her heart weighed heavy. Rejection was tougher than she previously gave it credit for.<p>

Morning brought crusty, salty eyes and discomfort. She scrubbed her face hard in the basin then combed her hair and let it sprawl across her shoulders as the sunlight flooded the hallway. Its optimism usually set her mood straight, but the feel was off. Her senses could not shake restlessness.

"Lily," someone whispered. The voice turned her head down an adjacent corridor and abruptly halted.

Lily awed at the figure on the other end of the hallway. It was nearly translucent in the morning rays, but a face was discernible. High, round cheekbones offset by an elongated nose and ideally rounded lips—the straight, clean features of an Elf, one entirely unfamiliar. The tresses of golden curls radiated light, almost drowning out the white gown.

And that stare.

"You have much of your mother about you." The voice reached her loud and clear, but the form remained silent.

Lily faced her cautiously and thought, "Who are you?"

She sensed amusement, but the being communicated wordlessly, "Do not lose heart, Daughter of Telgraves, for only it can show you the way."

Lily's eyes narrowed. "To what?"

Now the apparition smiled, and her earthly voice said aloud, "Home."

"Lily!"

Lily snapped her head to Lindir hurrying down the adjacent hallway then back to the figure, but the Elf maid was gone. Only sunrise lingered in her wake. Who was she?

"Lily," Lindir repeated as he came beside her, "the Dwarves—"

"Are gone." Gandalf also materialized from nowhere and lowered his voice as she faced him, brows furrowed. "And with a good head start." Elrond's council did not approve, it seemed.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Waiting for you, of course," he answered, and the obviousness of his tone struck a tender cord. "I'm not leaving without my accomplice." No, they were gone and glad to be rid of this place. Thorin would not allow her presence.

"My part in this quest is finished," she said firmly. "Leave now, before you lose them."

"You can't mean—"

"The Misty Mountains are a dangerous place, Wizard. I suggest you make haste." She retreated back to her room and hurried to the window, desperate for one small glance at their trail as they disappeared into the range. But she saw nothing. They were beyond sight and out of reach, drawing further from her as she perched on the sill and stared across the morning.

She could not recall how long she remained when a knock sounded upon the door. It was strong yet un-intrusive. Caranthir didn't have it in him to be anything else. He entered unbidden and sat beside her. His eyes watched her, however, and it did not take much for her to sigh and return the inquisition.

"What?"

His eyes crinkled, but he shrugged. "I'm wondering how long you're going to sit here moping before you realize where you should be."

She rolled her eyes back to the mountains. "I have no place among them. Thorin made that clear."

"Since when do you let others decide your place?" Since she wanted one in his life—a space in his heart. The wound in her own cringed tenderly at the memory of his eyes upon her, a large hand against her arm, that dark hair over her cheek. "You love him."

Lily flinched, but Caranthir's eyes remained soft on her face. If he could tell, then it must be so. It troubled her that she could no more discard it as fleeting fancy. "How could you know?"

He shrugged with an amused smirk. "I've dedicated long hours learning you backwards and forwards. You try so hard to hide yourself from others, reading you becomes a necessity." He cocked his head. "But only love could turn someone like you into a coward."

She flushed and punched him hard on the knee, and he winced, which made her smile somewhat. "I'm not afraid."

"Then what keeps you here?"

"Am I no longer welcome?"

"You will find more welcoming smiles nowhere else in Middle Earth. But your heart is not here, Lily." He flicked his gaze to the horizon. "It's out there."

It always had been. But now, she was not certain of its trustworthiness. It wounded her family too often, took her away from them and those that raised her as their own. It traversed her far and wide, wandering for a place to call home where it may finally rest at ease. And it chose a Dwarf, the only Dwarf in the whole of the world that wouldn't—couldn't—care for it.

"You've never regretted a thing in your life," he said, more stern than usual, and she peeked up at him. "Don't start now." Caranthir never lost faith in her, even after what she did those years ago.

"What if he can't forgive me?"

"For what, your family?"

"For abusing his trust, for keeping a secret I knew would displease him. For…For wanting to keep him blind, so long as I could stay with him just a while more."

"If that is the enormity of your transgressions, Helyanwë, he will forgive you."

"You haven't seen what I have, Caran, his deep hatred for those he holds responsible for his family's misfortunes. The look in his eyes when—"

"Your name is mentioned."

She blinked. No, that was not at all what she meant to say.

"Dwarves are defined by their stubbornness, served most unjustly through their unrelenting grudges, and Thorin's hatred runs thick. But not for you."

Don't give her hope. "I need honesty, Caran, not kindness."

"Then I shall cut to the chase: get off this window, track the wizard, and stop wallowing like a small girl, or I shall be forced to thwart your Company's intentions until they return here and make amends. And they will be most displeased by that, I'm certain."

Lily grinned and buried her face in her knees. "Don't make me laugh!"

"I was instructed, as well, to provide you with a tool should words lack persuasion."

She glanced up, and her breath hitched at the lhang blade in his hands. All Elvish swords gleamed beyond the rest of the earth, but this one was marked with elegant writing spiraling from the hilt down the white steel. Thalin.

"The Dauntless is yours, by commission of Lord Elrond."

Father. Her previous appeals for a weapon of her own were denied for numerous reason, most notably because he thought her unsuited for combat. She was impulsive and unrefined, the way all youth should be; therefore he rejected plans to arm her with more than a bow and arrow. Thalin, the Dauntless.

She slowly took the gift in both hands and felt it beneath her fingers. Such grace, and light as a dandelion. Why had he done this?

"Well?" Caranthir spoke, and she only then realized he now stood at the open door. "Let's not waste daylight."

Lily smiled, sheathed the weapon, and walked to him. His eyes twinkled as she stopped in front of him and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. He played innocent, but they both knew better. He was here as much on her father's behalf as his own, because everyone knew he could convince her of anything. That was his gift.

"Have you ever been in love, Caran?" He spoke of no one that came to mind, but his secrets were as well-kept as Elrond's.

Then his eyes softened, tenderer than any eyes she had ever witnessed, and he touched his knuckle beneath her chin, holding her gaze to him. "I will marry for nothing less."

Her heart skipped. And then it fluttered, as he bent and kissed her. The surprise squelched a physical reaction, but the experience was not at all unpleasant. His mouth was gentle and sweet, like him, and only caressed her enough to leave a sensitive feeling against her lips. Then his dark eyes stared straight across into hers.

"I asked Lord Elrond for his blessing, not his permission. I want to marry you because I love you, Lily." She loved him, too, though not the way he deserved. He was more than her friend, more than her family, but it was different. It was not the feelings she held for Thorin.

"Caranthir—"

"And your happiness is dearest to me." His voice turned deep, thick with a flavor unusual for him but linked to the more sensual nature of his being. He longed for her, as she longed for Thorin. How could she have missed the way he stared at her? "So go, before I change my mind."

He straightened and moved his hand from her face to the hallway. "They took the High Pass but will likely leave the main road. Goblins have taken over much of the regular routes to ensnare travelers."

They had already begun carving out new traps for visitors when she last crossed their path, and scaling the mountains was well more than a full day's trek. Those reckless Dwarves possessed a knack for finding trouble, and their skill with the trolls put her ill at ease. Would they survive a goblin hoard?

"Try not to show them up too badly."

Lily grinned at Caranthir's wink and tied Thalin to her hip. "Lucky for them, I have a map of my own."


	6. Chapter 5

_**An Unexpected Journey**_

_By Avalon Shiranui_

**Chapter Five**

Goblin stench intensified as the dark tunnel burrowed deep beneath the great mountains. The storm outside drove her off the beaten path, fortunately connected to a narrow crawlspace that fell upon a channel leading to Goblin Town. She had traipsed its outskirts a few times for other routes, but an invisible shadow patrolled their borders and kept unwelcome visitors at bay. This time, however, the hairs on her neck remained flat. The dark concealed no enigmas from her, and its cold comfort bolstered her determination.

Lily kneeled at the lit opening and observed the habitat below. Thousands of the beasts lined the walls and makeshift floors hundreds of feet beneath her—that any enclosed space could house them dumbfounded her—but even they were overshadowed by the behemoth perched on a rickety throne centered amongst his minions. The Great Goblin, leader of the Misty Mountains hoard. Caranthir told her about him, but his reputation did little to prepare her for the inflated, grotesque heap of clear, pussy flesh. Some greasy strings clung to his scalp, fastened in part by the bone crown squeezed on top, and his booming song filled the cavern's stale atmosphere.

He held a degree of repugnance unlike any she had the misfortune of encountering. And the gizzard, hm—it looked altogether inappropriate, more so on an ugly face than where it seemed better suited.

More important than the unseemly king were the prisoners ushered before him. It was impossible to distinguish their faces from this distance, but quite a few were herded by the scouts. She needed to get closer if she hoped to hear anything; even her bow could not clear such a gap with so many in its path.

Lily pounced on a lone goblin's back and crept behind the others stomping and shrieking to their master's chords. It sounded like a tavern jig, except with less cheer and more shrill, but the loud distraction made her movements easier, so long as she kept to the underbelly of the cavern fissures.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into _my _kingdom?" the King challenged the intruders.

Lily pulled a straggler amongst the shadows and squeezed the thick neck. He slowly collapsed on her, but she dropped him against the floor.

"Spies? _Thieves_? Assassins?!"

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence."

"_Dwarves_?"

"We found em on the front porch."

"Well don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack! Every crevice!"

Lily bashed another's head against the rock and stole his darkened perch over the rest. All eyes were on the strangers; she could get closer, but how…?

"It is my belief, Your Great Protuberance, that they are in league with Elves!" The crony passed a discovered item to the King, who snatched it up.

"'Made in Rivendell.' Ah! Second Age. Couldn't give it away." He tossed it to the depths below. Dwarves and their light fingers. "What are you doing in these parts?" Óin stepped up as spokesperson, and the King sat back on his throne. "No tricks! I want the truth, warts and all!"

"You're going to have to speak up. Your boys flattened my trumpet."

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" the King growled and swept the heap of stolen goods off the platform.

"If it's more information you want," Bofur jumped in, "I'm the one you should speak to!" The King stayed his hand. "We were on the road…Well it's not so much a road as a path… Actually it's not even that, come to think of it. It's more like a track. Anyway, the point is, we were on this road like a path like a track, and then we weren't. Which is a problem because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday."

"Visiting distant relations," Dori added.

"Some inbreds on me mother's side—"

"SHUT UUUUUP!" Every mouth closed at the King's command. "If they will not talk, we'll make them _squawk_! Bring up the mangler! Bring up the bone breaker! Start with the youngest!"

"Wait!" The feisty vermin turned their sights on Thorin as he stepped to the front of the group. She readied an arrow.

"Well, well, well," scoffed the King. "Look who it is: Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain." He managed a noble bow then quirked up. "Oh, but I'm forgetting! You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you…_nobody_, really."

Lily lowered her weapon. In a fashion, the Great Goblin spoke truth. These Dwarves ruled nothing, and Thorin was a crownless leader of misfits. Yet nobility was his birthright, and he sought to reclaim that which once was his. They were not soldiers, but they followed him on pain of death, and he would lay down for them. Did loyalty, courage, leadership, and honor not define a great kingship?

The Goblin King had more to say, words that Thorin glared darkly over, but their voices were lost in the distance. She would have to get nearer, but that opportunity was gone. The goblins hauled their line of torture devices from the bowels of the lair, and the King danced and sang gleefully of the pain to follow. Even with a clear shot, the Dwarves were unarmed and now blocked by the procession. If she fired, she would be exposed.

The chorus came to a fearful end when Orcrist crashed to the floor, and the Great Goblin scrambled back. "I know that sword! It is the Goblin Cleaver! The Biter!" Whips came down upon their backs as the crazed minions attacked their defenseless captives. "The blade that sliced a thousand necks! Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!"

Lily raised her bow and aimed for one of the goblins pinning Thorin down. There was so much movement, but just a step to the left…

"Cut off his head!"

A goblin held a dagger high over Thorin's head—curses! She had no shot!

Then she flew onto her back, shoved down by a force of light which filled the town in darkness and silence. The shock paralyzed her a moment until she realized all else had fallen, too. What happened? A few glows reemerged, and she sat up as the pests groaned and grumbled confusedly. Below, a tall figure stood on the platform now, and her face brightened as he came into focus.

"Take up arms," Gandalf spoke, rallying everyone to their senses. "Fight." Some were getting to their feet. "Fight!" He charged headlong into the rising foes, and the Dwarves shouted as they wrangled up and gathered their weapons. The Great Goblin's club was no match for Orcrist, and the beast took a tumble off his throne and into the pits below.

Lily shouldered her bow and drew the lhang blade, its melodious song a thrill at potential battle, and she bolted across the bridges and rafters after her fleeing compatriots. Many stood in her path, but their craze could not match her nimbleness, and she leapt and climbed and ducked and parried her way through their deranged forces to keep up with the line of battle below. They fought fast and hard, yet the gathering enemy kept pace behind every step, and she could not manage to find a way down without losing a limb.

Her road came to an abrupt halt as the Company crossed a rickety bridge, and her scaffolding ended around a bend. No choice!

Lily raised her sword in both hands, strengthened her step, and vaulted off the side. The air whipped against her loose hair, but her legs pulled in and crashed hard against the abdomen of a goblin as Thalin sunk like a spear through his torso. She somersaulted off him, barely ahead of the swarm, and sprinted across the bridge where everyone engaged their own legion of adversaries. Thalin maneuvered through the regiment, slicing enemy flesh wherever it crossed, until she stood back to back with Kíli.

"Lily!" he grinned, and she decapitated a beast between them.

"Look out!"

He spun around in time to block an arrow with his sword, then again, and the other Dwarves joined him as they grabbed a ladder and plopped it down on the coming line then pushed them back until a gap in the path sent the squeals off the edge, and they sprinted across the ladder to the next platform. The foes were endless!

"Duck!"

Lily instantly complied and dropped beneath the ally's overhead swing then shoved her own blade through a goblin's jaw. She turned on the surprise attack, but Thorin had already dispatched the crone and now shoved her ahead. "Go, go!"

Gandalf brought the team up short when their roadway ended. Thorin cut the rope latching the platform to its more secure brethren, and the wooden bridgeway began a dangerous swing across the pits.

"Jump!" Thorin ordered, and several took a leap. Goblins leapt on as the others swung back, but Gandalf dispatched them then joined the rest of the Company as it sprung to safety and Fíli cut the swing loose.

Did this forsaken maze never end?! She knew the depths of the mountains, too well, and wherever Gandalf led them, she sincerely hoped it was not deeper beneath the viscera. She had never crossed to the other side, and it disturbed her how many fowl creatures hid inside a once magnificent kingdom, but her instincts wielded her blade true, and she kept stride as they fought their way through the throngs.

The Great Goblin sprung up through another bridge, and their route ended. Gandalf pushed the Dwarves behind him, but they were surrounded on all sides. No going back; no way forward. She coiled her fingers tighter around Thalin and glared at the despicable King.

"You thought you could escape me?" He took two swings at Gandalf, which threw the old man back against the Dwarves. "What are you gonna do now, _Wizard_?"

They shoved Gandalf upright, and he poked the King in the eye with his staff. The King squawked, and the wizard cut a thick line across the great belly. The King dropped to his knees and blinked.

"That'll do it."

Gandalf cut his throat for surety, and the King collapsed forward, splintering the braces of the bridge and snapping its ropes. Suddenly, they were falling—through pathways and crosshairs, against supports and down the cliff—and Balin tucked her in front of him against one of the bridge's beams. Even the slide came to an end, however, and they crashed into the opposing precipice then smashed to the floor in a great heap.

Despite the shard in her side, she stumbled out beside Gandalf relatively unscathed. Luck had a twisted sense of humor, it appeared.

"Well that could've been worse," noted Bofur.

Then there was another crash, and she spun around as the Dwarves all groaned and yelped. The Great Goblin took the last laugh as he lay splattered across the lot of them.

"You have _got _to be _jokin_!" Dwalin growled and tried pushing the weight off him.

"Gandalf!" shouted Kíli. One glance at the approaching swarm was all she needed to reach in and dig her friends out.

"There's too many; we can't fight them!" said Dwalin.

"Only one thing will save us: daylight! Come on!"

They were up and down a new path, presently goblin-free, and Lily sheathed her sword as sun shined ahead. Oh, what gorgeous warmth upon her face! How those caves ever held any fascination for her was beyond imagining at that moment, and she found herself grinning as they charged down the mountainside a secure distance from the exit.

She threw an arm around Balin and leaned against him as they stopped to rally themselves. He smiled, too, and supported her. The hole in her side ached and bled now, but they were free and they were safe, ha-hah, what dazzling providence!

"Where's Bilbo?" Gandalf asked, scanning the group. "Where is our Hobbit?"

And just like that, relief became fear. Lily raked her frantic eyes across the woods, too, but it was only trees and Dwarves. "Bilbo?"

"Where is the Hobbit?!" Gandalf shouted. Everyone spun themselves for signs of the Shireling, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Curse that Halfling!" growled Dwalin. "Now he's _lost_?"

"I thought he was with Dori!" Glóin shouted.

"Don't blame me!" clipped Dori.

"Well where did you last see him?" Gandalf asked earnestly as she pressed a hand against her dampening wound.

"I think I saw him slip away when they first cornered us," said Nori.

"And what happened exactly? Tell me!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin spoke up, and the disapproval in his voice flared her. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it!" How dare he speak of Bilbo like that! "He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door." Wretched Dwarves!

Lily glared and turned to Gandalf. "We must go back for him."

"No," Thorin answered sharply.

She whipped on him and snapped, "We cannot leave him!"

"We will not be seeing our Hobbit again."

"Gah!" She grabbed her sword hilt and tried to march past him back up the mountain, but he clasped her arm. Despite her fury, the conviction in his gaze filled her with dread.

"He is long gone." He was so sure. Just the same, Bilbo was her responsibility—her friend—more than some burglar, and she had to know for certain.

"No." Everyone jumped and gasped at the little Hobbit standing at their flank, none the worse for wear. "He isn't."

Lily was on him in a heartbeat and nearly tackled him to the ground when her arms flung around him. His body squeezed beneath her embrace, and she beamed at his realness. "Don't _ever_ do such a foolhardy thing again!" She pulled back, cupped his smudged face, and kissed his cheeks half a dozen times then hugged him again. "Not without me!" He breathed a laugh against her hair and patted her back. Oh, Hobbits, Hobbits, she absolutely loved Hobbits!

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf chuckled. "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" She released him to let the others have a look, and he smiled at the wizard.

"Bilbo," Kíli breathed relief. "We'd given you up."

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?" asked Fíli amazedly.

"How indeed?" added Dwalin. Bilbo gave a nervous chuckle, but Lily ruffled his hair. He was the sweetest thing she had ever seen.

"Well what does it matter?" Gandalf replied. "He's back." She could not agree more.

"It matters." Thorin's deep voice interrupted the others' glee, and she passed him a glare. "I want to know." His resolve remained unbreakable, which she irritatingly admired about him. "Why did you come back?"

Lily was happy to have Bilbo safely in her reach once more, but Thorin's question merited one's curiosity. Whatever his reservations against the Hobbit, he was right: Bilbo yearned for the Shire and all the comforts of his hole in the ground. Why had he come forward, rather than head back?

"Look I know you doubt me," he said. "I know-I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bagg End." He shrugged. "I miss my books. And my armchair and my garden. See that's where I belong; that's home. And that's why I came back, cause…" He looked to the group, and Lily struggled not to smile at the thawing in Thorin's eyes. "You don't have one—a home. It was taken from you." The naïve Hobbit's warm, unblinking regard stayed on the Dwarf Prince's softening stare. "But I will help you take it back if I can."

The moments of tender silence melted her heart, and she smiled at Gandalf's contented hopefulness. Bilbo possessed a most unusual way of inspiring courage.

But the tenderness was not to last, for the chilling howl of Wargs consumed the mountainside. The sunset completed behind the trees, and everyone pulled their weapons. Not again.

"Out of the frying pan," said Thorin.

"And into the fire, run. Run!" Gandalf led the charge, and they raced once more across the Misty Mountains' perilous ways.

Lily shoved Bilbo off ahead of her and pulled an arrow. The Wargs closed in fast, and one nearly took the Hobbit's head as it sprung over a rock. It turned sharply and charged while Bilbo pulled his glowing sword. She plucked its front paw with the arrow, and it fell straight into Bilbo's blade. The other Wargs caught up as well, but the Dwarves dispatched them and continued ahead. Curses! Another dead end!

"Up into the trees!" Gandalf ordered. "All of you! Come on! Climb, Bilbo, climb!" She counted the Dwarves scrambling up the trees one at a time. Nine—ten.

"They're coming!" shouted Thorin. Thirteen—fourteen…

She turned around and blanched at Bilbo struggling to retrieve his sword from the Warg skull. "Bilbo Baggins!" He wrenched the blade free then paled at the enemy reinforcements and sprinted toward her. She cradled her hands together and pushed him up with one painful thrust then swung herself over a branch and helped him higher.

Wargs growled and snapped and patrolled the ground below, but they remained safely out of reach. For now anyway. How long could they remain without provisions or shelter? The wizard better have another trick up his sleeve!

The fanged pursuers fell silent, however, and everyone followed their gaze to the leader just appearing from the moonlit shadows—a pale orc astride a white Warg. The shock stilled her, but it made sense. Who else would track their Company so relentlessly but the most bitter of old enemies?

"Do you smell it?" The Black Speech sounded different from Caranthir's, and Azog's rumbled voice gave chills as he watched his trapped prey. "The smell of _fear_?" He sniffed the air then captured Thorin's gaze. "I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thráin."

"It cannot be." She turned her head at Thorin's broken whisper, and his pained expression twisted her chest. Better not to have known his father's fate.

"That one is mine. Kill the others!"

The Wargs attacked the trees with renewed vengeance, leaping and biting amongst the branches and splintering them from the bark. Dozens took their turn gnawing and grinding at the dry wood, until a different snap shook the first tree and broke its defeated roots. They were falling! They crashed into the next pine, but it gave way as well at the newfound burden, and they jumped further still.

Lily grabbed a handful of Bilbo's jacket and shoved him toward the last tree. He crashed into it chest-first, but he was secure. She prepared to leap when a Warg snapped at her heels, and her foot slipped, plunging her to the teeth below.

A hand grabbed hold of her wrist and hoisted her almost effortlessly back up amongst the survivors. She clung to the tunic while his hand clutched her tightly against him. She leaned back to offer a smile, but his eyes were on her side. The blood stained her clothes now, yet it felt worth it to see his concern.

The Wargs pushed on below, springing up and pushing against the sturdiest of the timber, but it would not hold them long. Then a flaming pinecone zipped past them and flared across the dry grass amongst the Wargs. They scattered briefly, but Gandalf lit more pinecones and dropped them to the Dwarves, who chucked them at their fanged foes until a line of fire separated them from the beasts that ran off in terror. Azog roared while the Company cheered.

Then the tree took a sudden plunge as the rocks released their grip on its roots. It jolted against the last remaining threads, and the Dwarves fumbled for something to clasp onto. Even Lily lost her balance and rolled out of Thorin's unstable grip. He reached for her, brushing his fingers against hers, but not fast enough.

Bifur caught her at the heel, and she stared wide-eyed at the perilous plummet below. Heights never frightened her before, but the open air of certain death almost stopped her heart. "Pull me up!" she yelped at Bifur, but he was already nearly off his limb.

"Mr. Gandalf!" Dori cried just before he lost his grip and fell with Ori attached to his leg. Gandalf thrust out his staff, and Dori held on for life.

Lily reached up for Bifur's arm. It was too far, and her side throbbed at her weight prying the wound open. Curses, she couldn't reach! "Pull me up!" she demanded again, but it was all he could do to keep hold of her ankle. If she wanted up, she would have to do it herself.

Then she caught Thorin standing, sword drawn, and plunging across the flames toward the enemy. Only a fool! Yet she could not take her eyes from him as he raised his sword and oaken branch, fearless as any being she ever witnessed, and let off a battle charge as Azog grinned pure malice. The Warg plunged at the Dwarf Prince and knocked him down with one heavy paw to the chest.

Thorin struggled to his feet, but Azog came about and struck him firmly with his great mace. Then the Warg chomped down on the Dwarf, who wailed in agony as the fangs crunched into him. The sound brought her to tears, her own plight forgotten. He mustered another swing, and the Warg tossed him aside with a roar when the blade struck its snout. His body crashed against the rocks and lay motionless. He was dying…

"Bring me the Dwarf's head," Azog commanded.

No. Lily reached up for Bifur again, but his grip slipped, and she dipped even further. No, no, gah, curse this lesion!

The orc was nearly upon him now and unsheathed his blade. She stretched for Bifur with all her might—the blade rose high above the Dwarf, their leader, her love—reach!

A small figure suddenly tackled the orc and wrestled him around on the ground before stabbing him repeatedly through the chest then stumbling back. Bilbo positioned himself between the snarling white Warg and the fallen Prince. Nonono! Other Wargs closed in on the Hobbit as he swung wildly at them, but they were unafraid. Oh, thank the stars! Kíli, Fíli, and Dwalin charged in weapons soaring, but Bilbo yelled out as well and chopped at the enemies.

Her side burned, but she ground her teeth and wrapped her other leg around Bifur's. "Swing me!" Bifur kicked hard with his legs—once, twice, thrice—and she pulled her a knife. "Let go!" He did, and she reached up. The point stabbed hard into the tree bark, and she wrestled up the snapping branch.

The white Warg had his eyes on Bilbo, who had fallen to the ground near Thorin, and she wrenched her sword free. One Warg lost its throat in her path while she mounted the collapsing body, coiled her feet around the rider's neck, and snapped it hard then rolled off and slid in front of Bilbo, Thalin raised to the pale foes. They snarled at her, fangs and all, but she was not afraid. Not anymore.

Then she heard powerful screeches far superior to the shrill sounds of goblins or the puny chirp of simple beasts. Great, noble sounds that surrounded them, and Wargs and orcs alike flew through the air against their will. Eagles! One by one, two by threes, the enemies were thrown off the cliff, driven into flames, or snipped in great beaks. She turned and watched as one swooped down, talons open, and scooped Thorin away from danger. Azog's ferocious roar intimidated no one as the others were picked out of the fray as well, and Lily held tight to Bilbo as an eagle dropped them onto the back of another.

They flew through the night, far along the Misty Mountains and beyond, and she tied off the bleeding. Hopefully there would be time to wash her clothes, but she was just as glad to lay back against Bilbo and muster her strength. It was hard to decide if these fools had the greatest luck or the worst.

As sunrise beckoned, the eagles would soar no further. They chose a high peak deep in the green valley to carefully surrender their cargo, and Thorin was deposited first. Gandalf rushed to his motionless body while the others were dropped in turn.

Lily abandoned Bilbo and rushed to the Prince's side, collapsed to her knees, and leaned over him. His handsome face was broken and void, as though he were asleep. She stroked his hair and pressed a hand to his chest, comforted by the faint beating beneath her palm. Gandalf stretched forth his own hand and mumbled words she could not make out.

Oh save him, Wizard…

Thorin's eyelids fluttered feebly, and he gazed up at her. She sighed with a wild grin. His hand weakly brushed her leg, but the gesture consoled her. "You fool."

Thorin turned his eyes to Gandalf and whispered, "The Halfling?"

"It's all right," Gandalf assured with a touch of delighted surprise. "Bilbo is here. He's quite safe."

The Dwarves swarmed in to help their fallen leader, but Thorin shrugged them off as he found his footing. His attention was on Bilbo, who stood away from the rest with a twinkle of pleasure.

"You!" Thorin barked, and the smiles ebbed. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!" Bilbo had no idea what to say, and no one, not even she, dared interrupt the Prince as he approached the Hobbit. "Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?"

Bilbo lowered his gaze, clearly wounded by Thorin's relentless doubt. The others stood in silence, uncertain of how to intervene.

But sternness gave way to joy, and Thorin shook his head. "I have never been so wrong, in all my life." He brought his great arms around little Bilbo, who was first confused then overwhelmed at the embrace. He was one of them. The others cheered, and Lily beamed and clasped Gandalf's elbow with a tender squeeze.

Finally.

Thorin released the speechless Hobbit and stepped back. "I am sorry I doubted you."

"No, I-I would've doubted me, too," replied Bilbo. "I'm not a hero, or a warrior. Not even a burglar," he added with a nod at Gandalf, and the others chuckled. Even Thorin produced a smile.

The eagles screeched once more, and they turned to watch the brilliant birds disappear back across the hills. Magnificent.

"Is that what I think it is?"

They about-faced, and Thorin walked to the edge of the perch. Far across the horizon, a solitary mountain peak stood watch over the land. The others moved closer behind their leader, but Lily remained back.

"Erebor," said Gandalf. "The Lonely Mountain, the last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth."

"Our home." Thorin raised his head with pride.

A small bird chirp distracted Óin, who piped, "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain!"

"That, my dear Óin, is a thrush," Gandalf informed.

"But we'll take it as a sign," smiled Thorin with a glance at Bilbo. "A good omen."

Bilbo nodded. "You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us." She hoped they were right, because her heart could not handle much more of this.

She smirked and clapped her hands. "Come on then, lads! We didn't survive all this just to look at it."

Bofur laughed heartily, hurried over, and swept her up in his arms for a mighty hug. It pulled her side, but she chuckled anyway and patted his shoulder. "The lady's right! Let's not waste daylight!"

"One moment there, Bofur." Fíli moved to the descent of the precipice and tucked his hands in front of him. "If we're to trust an Elf in our midst, some incentive should be required." She quirked an eyebrow, and he raised his chin. "I believe a kiss will suffice."

Lily pressed her smiling lips together, sighed at the burden, and walked to Fíli. She took post, and he turned his cheek to her. She caked on extra sweetness as she cupped his youthful face, leaned in, and pressed her lips against his warm cheek. He puffed a bit, nodded satisfactorily, and headed down.

Bofur strutted up next with Dori and Nori pushing for their chance. Kíli wanted a kiss for each cheek, and she kissed Ori's nose, too. Bifur shivered merrily at her touch while Óin turned beat red and Glóin cleared his throat to pretend he didn't care. Bombur turned his head at the last minute, and the others snapped at him as he dove down the cliff side. Dwalin tried walking past untouched, but she bent and planted a quick smack on the top of his head. He growled back at her, yet his nose was slightly flushed. Balin patted her hand on his turn, and Gandalf winked as he leaned over.

Bilbo offered his cheek. Silly Hobbit. She flung one arm around his shoulders, pulled him close, and trapped his head with the other as she kissed him emphatically all over his wonderful face. He grew warm under her affections but bore it like a good son surrendered to his mother's gushes. One last large, long smooch against his temple, and she giggled then released him. He smiled embarrassedly, his complexion red as an apple, and descended.

Thorin rested his hands on his sword hilt and stared straight ahead as his turn came at last. She hesitated then stepped onto her tiptoes and leaned in to touch his skin.

"I'm sorry I dropped you."

She came up short of his cheek, and he turned his head. Every detail of him was open to her, and she longed to tend the injuries of his lovely face. The gentle eyes that Bilbo received now turned on her. A fire filled her from the point of her toes to the strands of her hair, a nirvana that left her temporarily breathless as he smiled into her amazed stare. If she doubted it before, there was no questioning it now. Love. She loved him.

Lily managed her own smile and shrugged her eyebrows. "You can't save me all the time."

His lips quirked higher then shrugged, too. "Luckily there are fourteen of us." She giggled, and he turned his head, ready for his enticement.

She slid a hand across his beard, pulling him slightly closer, and held a breath. Her lips lingered on the corner of his, and she shut her eyes as an amorous sensation filled her chest. His fingers brushed her unintentionally, but they both leaned into the touch, and he raised his hand to gently clasp the arm caressing his cheek. She lifted her mouth and gazed up as he turned his head toward her.

Would he let her kiss those lips?

"Ahem." They both blinked, aware of each other in a new way, and Balin said, "Lily, we could use help getting past this bit."

She blushed and pulled away from Thorin's suddenly effortless hold. "Yes of course. If someone's going to make it down in one piece, it will certainly be the Elf." Balin smiled politely, but she pushed past him without further conversation.

She never saw the silent dialogue between the two Dwarves.

**To Be Continued...  
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